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MASTERS OF THE SHOW 



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AUGUSTUS PITOU 



frontispiece 



MASTERS OF THE 
SHOW 

AS SEEN IN RETROSPECTION BY ONE WHO HAS 

BEEN ASSOCIATED WITH THE AMERICAN 

STAGE FOR NEARLY FIFTY YEARS 

BY 

AUGUSTUS PITOU 



"We are no other than a moving row 
Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go 
Round with the Sun-illumin'd Lantern held 
In Midnight by the Master of the Show." 

— Omar Khayyam. 




NEW YORK 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1914 



>5 



Copyright, 1914, by 
The Neale Publishing Company 



Mir- 



/ 



Z° 



CI.A369955 



DEDICATED 
TO MY FRIEND 

DOCTOR HEINRICH STERN 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Augustus Pitou Frontispiece "^ 



FACING 
PAGE 



Lotta as the Marchioness 14 

Lawrence Barrett in "Francesca da Bimini" . 40 ^ 

Edwin Forrest as Damon 51 \/ 

Letter of Edwin Booth to Mr. Pitou .... 70 l 

Edwin Booth as Hamlet 77 ^ 

Mary Anderson 97 ^ 

Maggie Mitchell as Fanchon 104 ^ 

Adelaide Neilson as Juliet 106 ^ 

A. L. Erlanger 136 1/ 

C. B. Jefferson 140 l/ 

Joseph Jefferson as Caleb Plummer .... 143 ^ 

F. F. Proctor 177 ^ 



PBEFACE 

The story of my life before I became associ- 
ated with the stage may be briefly told. 

I was born in New York City, in Eeade 
Street, in 1843. My father was a Frenchman 
and my mother an American born of French 
parents. When very yonng I was sent to 
school in the Primary Department of the Me- 
chanics Institute on Chambers Street, just east 
of Center Street, and when my family moved 
np town I attended the West Seventeenth 
Street Public School, which is still in existence. 
After I had been graduated from the highest 
class a position was obtained for me in the of- 
fice of a wholesale drygoods house. Within 
a year, however, this work grew irksome. My 
mind was at that time filled with the adven- 
tures of Captain Marryat's heroes: the sea 
called to me, and the call was answered. 

My first voyage was to Australia as boy be- 
fore the mast in the clipper ship Siveepstakes. 
My last voyage, six years later, was as second 
mate of a full-rigged ship, called the William 
Worth and commanded by Captain Clements. 



10 PEEFACE 

On our voyage home from Antwerp the ship, 
after encountering heavy gales, foundered in 
the Atlantic Ocean about fifty miles south of the 
banks of Newfoundland. We took to the 
boats, were picked up two days later by a brig- 
antine bound from the West Indies to St. 
Johns, N. F., and four days afterward the cap- 
tain of the brigantine ran into Boston and put 
us ashore there. 

A few months later Captain Clements ob- 
tained command of another ship and engaged 
me as first mate. One evening, a few days be- 
fore the time set for sailing, my mother begged 
me, with tears, to give up my sea life. She 
said that she had all her children with her but 
me, and that during my voyages from home 
she had had many sleepless nights. 

Captain Clements sailed without me. 

My next occupation was in Oil City during 
the pioneer days of the oil business, and there 
I began life a second time. The firm of Par- 
ker and Pitou bought oil at the wells and 
shipped it to Pittsburg. For a time we made 
considerable money. 

During the winter months of 1865 and 1866 
we bought, — as did all but one firm, — thou- 
sands of barrels of oil and stored it on our 
landings, ready for shipment to Pittsburg 
when the ice would break up in the river and 



PEEFACE 11 

navigation would be opened. Eockefellers & 
Andrews, — the Eockefellers in the firm being 
John D. and William, — whose landing was near 
ours, was the only firm that did not buy much 
oil that winter. Their landing was compara- 
tively empty when the great spring flood of 
1866 came and swept the oil from our landings 
into the raging torrent of the Alleghany. 
There was no such thing as insurance at that 
time. And, as only a few thousand barrels of 
this oil were ever recovered, one year after the 
flood our firm, like many others, was bankrupt. 
This ended my career in the oil business. 

John D. Eockefeller could not have foreseen 
the flood, but, being even then a great financier 
and organizer, he did foresee what the rest of 
us did not, — the coming decline in gold and in 
all values. 

In the spring of 1867 Mr. J. Henry Magoni- 
gle introduced me to Edwin Booth, who en- 
gaged me for the Old Winter Garden Theater 
in New York City, — at a salary of eight dollars 
a week, which gave me a new start in life. My 
first performance was as the priest in " Ham- 
let.' ' In that speech, — difficult for a beginner, 
with its shards, flints, and pebbles, — I forgot 
my lines, and Barton Hill, who was playing 
Laertes, prompted me and pulled me through. 
Two days later the theater was destroyed by 



12 PEEFACE 

fire. Later the newspapers announced that a 
benefit would be given by Mr. Booth at the 
Academy of Music, New York, for the attaches 
of the late Winter Garden Theater. Accom- 
panying the announcement was a notice to the 
company to report for a rehearsal of "Ham- 
let." Mr. Booth, surprised to see me at the 
rehearsal, interrupted the scene, and said: 

"Hello; are you going to try it again V 9 

"Yes, sir; and I hope to get through this 
time." 

"You are not discouraged V 9 

"No, sir." 

The rehearsal then proceeded. 

The night of the performance the stage man- 
ager told me that Mr. Booth wanted my ad- 
dress. About a week later a letter received 
from Mr. Magonigle, who was Edwin Booth's 
business manager, informed me that Mr. Booth 
had secured for me an engagement for the fol- 
lowing season at the "Walnut Street Theater, 
Philadelphia, at a salary of twelve dollars a 
week; and there my stage career virtually be- 
gan in September, 1867, 



CHAPTEK I 

Among the many stars that played annual en- 
gagements at the Walnut Street Theater while 
I was a member of the Company were: Mag- 
gie Mitchell, Mrs. D. P. Bowers, Frank Chan- 
frau, John Brougham, Edwin Forrest, Edwin 
Booth, Edwin Adams, Mr. Barney Williams 
and Mrs. Williams, Mr. W. J. Florence and 
Mrs. Florence, John E. Owens, John Sleeper 
Clarke, Lucille Western, Kate Fisher, Ada 
Isaac Menken, J. W. Wallack, Edwin Daven- 
port, Lotta, and others less prominent. 

The first time I saw Lotta was in San Fran- 
cisco in 1860. I was then an ordinary seaman 
on board the clipper ship Prima Donna, of Bos- 
ton, which was lying in the harbor loading for 
New York. Two other youngsters and I were 
given ' i shore leave ' ' for a day and a night. In 
the evening we went to a music hall near the 
Alcazar, where the first part of the entertain- 
ment was a minstrel number, in which only the 
males had black faces. On one end of the semi- 
circle was seated Joseph Murphy with the 
bones, and on the other end was Lotta with a 
tambourine. She was dressed in a short frock 

13 



14 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

and could not then have been more than four- 
teen years old. Later in the evening, when she 
did her specialty of songs and dances, as it was 
her benefit night the audience threw coins to 
her, which she picked up and put into a small 
round basket. 

Five years later when I was in business in 
Oil City she came there to play a week's en- 
gagement, supported by Sam Jack's local 
stock company, and she and her mother had 
rooms where I was boarding. We became ac- 
quainted, and she went with me to the Jones 
House, the best hotel in town, to consult 
Bishop, the famous mind-reader. We each 
wrote a question on separate slips of paper, 
then rolled our papers into tight wads and 
gave them to Bishop. He took first my ques- 
tion and then hers in one hand, and, without 
opening either of the wads, wrote the answers 
with his other hand. Lotta refused to tell me 
what her question had been, nor would she tell 
me the answer, so I said to her jokingly: "It 
was the same question that all girls ask,— 
1 When shall I be married V or 'Will my mar- 
ried life be a happy oneT " She would 
neither acknowledge nor deny that I had 
guessed right. However, she never married. 

Lotta was unique, petite, chic, and magnetic. 
She did some very clever acting as Little Nell 




Facing page 14 



LOTTA 
As the Marchioness 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 15 

and the Marchioness in a dramatization of 
Dickens' "Old Curiosity Shop," her scenes as 
the Marchioness with Dick Swiveller being re- 
plete with good eccentric comedy and character 
work. She and her contemporary Maggie 
Mitchell were great favorites, drawing large 
audiences, and they both retired from the 
stage at the height of their careers. 

Maggie Mitchell had a number of plays in 
her repertoire, of which "Fanchon" was the 
most popular. She had been trained in a good 
school, and her art was perfect. She was as 
effective in high comedy as she was in senti- 
mental and pathetic scenes. 

Maggie Mitchell and Lotta are still living. I 
have seen them both within the past year, and 
it is surprising how they have retained their 
youthful figures and the winsome ways that 
charmed the public years ago. 

Mr. Barney Williams and Mrs. Williams ap- 
peared in Irish plays. He was an Irish "low 
comedian, ' ' and she played the Colleens. They 
presented a play entitled "The Fairy Circle," 
in which the character played by Barney Wil- 
liams was supposed to have died. He was in 
a wooded glen, surrounded by fairies, and the 
queen of the fairies told him that he was pres- 
ent in spirit only, that his body was buried, 
whereupon he asked to see it. A double was 



16 MASTEKS OF THE SHOW 

required to represent the body, and I was se- 
lected for that double because I was about his 
size. I objected, as there was not a line to 
speak; nevertheless I had to take the part. 
My youthful indignation and humiliation were 
very great, for it was a super's work. 

However, I determined that I would not sac- 
rifice my moustache, but would hide it as best 
I could. That night when the fairy queen 
waved her wand and summoned the dead body 
to appear I came up through the center trap 
stretched out on a green mossy bank. The 
queen said: 

' l Behold your body ! ' ' 

Mr. Williams, loud enough for the entire au- 
dience to hear him, replied : 

"Well, if that's my body, it has grown a very 
tidy moustache since they put it under the 
sod." 

I was given the alternative of shaving off my 
moustache for the next performance or of in- 
stant discharge from the company. Very sor- 
rowfully I accepted the alternative of shaving 
off my moustache. 

In those days stars made very little money 
as compared with the stars of to-day. It was 
the custom then for stars to take a benefit one 
night during their engagement in the different 
cities, and on these occasions they were given 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 17 

a third, and sometimes a half, of the gross re- 
ceipts. This was often all the money that they 
earned. Some of them shared the profits after 
the manager of the theater had first deducted 
his expenses for the week. The minor stars 
often needed their benefit money in order to 
pay their hotel bills and go to the next city, and 
the weekly receipts of the theater frequently 
fell below the expenses. Now and then a star 
would come with a new play added to his or 
her repertoire, and this new play usually 
helped to draw a crowd. What was called a 
skeleton manuscript, — that is, a manuscript 
with the star's part left out, save the cues, — 
and a set of parts were sent ahead to the stage 
manager of the local stock company, who would 
rehearse the play. The local actors knew 
nothing about the play; they simply studied 
their lines, and waited for the coming of the 
star to fill in the missing links at one or two 
rehearsals. 

The lines of business in the stock companies 
were strictly defined. There were the leading 
man, the juvenile man, the walking gentleman, 
the heavy man, the old man, the low comedian, 
and the general utility men, who played any 
small parts they were cast for. Then, too, 
there were the leading woman, the heavy 
the juvenile woman, the walking 



18 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

lady, the soubrette, the old woman, and the 
utility women. The actors were familiar 
with their respective parts in all the Shake- 
spearean plays, standard dramas, and comedies. 
One rehearsal usually sufficed to give a per- 
fect performance as the actors had played 
the same parts with many stars. The dia- 
logue had merely to be recovered, which 
was easily accomplished by the actors, as their 
capacity for memorizing was abnormally devel- 
oped. Indeed, it was no unusual thing for an 
actor to memorize a long part, from one night 
to the next, and an actor once won a wager in 
Philadelphia by memorizing the entire front 
page of a local newspaper in forty-eight hours. 

Some times there would be no visiting stars, 
for there were not enough of them to fill up the 
season of the theater. When this occurred the 
stock company would fill in the interims, once 
in a while doing better business than some of 
the stars. After playing many seasons in the 
same company the principal members some- 
times became great local favorites, and it was 
not an unusual thing for the gallery boys to 
greet them on the street by name. 

There were many actors at that time who 
understood the art of acting, though the pre- 
vailing method was to overemphasize and ex- 
aggerate. Violent outbursts of passion are as 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 19 

frequent in life now as they were then, and our 
daily papers are filled with the consequences of 
them. If acting be "to hold the mirror up to 
nature,' ' would not our present day actors, 
whose tendency is to subdue and suppress, be 
truer to life and more effective, if they gave 
full vent to the expression of emotions? This 
suppression is as poor art as was the exaggera- 
tion of the past. When emotion is truly felt 
it will never be unnaturally expressed by an 
actor whose art is good. He may lack the 
genius to electrify his hearers, but his art will 
carry conviction. 

The complaint is common to-day that many 
actors, some holding prominent positions, are 
at fault in proper articulation, and sometimes 
in their orthoepy. Persons often say, "I 
like such and such an actor, but I can't always 
understand what he says." Words are care- 
lessly run together, syllables are slurred, and 
proper emphasis is too often lacking. Stage 
managers in the past were most particular in 
this respect. They did not hesitate to correct 
an actor publicly at rehearsal. 

It is related that an actor once said at re- 
hearsal : 

"It's very am-bi-gu-ous to me." 

"No, no," interrupted the stage manager; 
' ' not am-bi-gu-ous — am-big-u-ous. ' ' 



20 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

"Oh, very well/' said the actor, "if you pre- 
fer it, — am-big-u-ous. ' ' 

When he came off the scene he said to some 
of his confreres standing in the wings : 

"The governor's damned particular this 
morning. ' ' 

This same slurring of words and syllables 
is sometimes noticeable in the pulpit and on the 
forum. We surely have a right to expect cor- 
rectness from those who speak in public. 

Formerly the majority of actors came from 
the lower walks of life. Many of them were 
uneducated, and only a few of them were re- 
fined and cultured. The most capable, best 
qualified, and best informed among them came 
from theatrical families, which were then more 
numerous than they are now. In their homes 
these actors had imbibed a reverence for the 
stage and its traditions. 

Some actors had other callings. For in- 
stance, "Pop Bailey,' ' as he was called, who 
for many years played old men's parts at the 
Walnut Street Theater, kept a thread and nee- 
dle store on one of the side streets; the "walk- 
ing gentleman" of the company kept a drug- 
store in Baltimore, and J. B. Eoberts, the stage 
manager, had a school of elocution. Salaries 
were small, and an outside occupation gave 
some little additional income which was often 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 21 

sadly needed. The stage door-keeper, "Pop 
Beed," who was a grandfather, furnished chil- 
dren of all ages from his own family when they 
were needed to take part in plays. Eoland 
Eeed was of this family. 

The leading members of the company of the 
Wahmt Street Theater had their own ward- 
robes ; the others dressed their parts from the 
wardrobe of the theater, consequently the old 
wardrobe woman and her daughter were con- 
stantly brushing and repairing the stock. The 
costuming of the plays was incongruous. Har- 
mony of color was unknown and three or four 
characters might have been seen on the stage 
at one time all dressed in the same colors. 
Frequently costumes of different epochs were 
used in the same play. 

The pride of the low comedian was his collec- 
tion of wigs, the pride of the leading man was 
his collection of swords, and the property room 
was truly an "old curiosity shop." It con- 
tained every property that had been used in 
plays since the theater was built, — throne 
chairs, papier-mache gilded banquet set, Gothic 
furniture, and a thousand and one other things. 
All these properties were made by the property 
man, and were used season after season. 

In the theater there was employed a scenic 
artist, whose principal occupation was paint- 



22 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

ing in and then painting out old scenery, of 
which there was a goodly stock in the scene- 
room. Managers bought very little new ma- 
terial in those days. Then, too, there was the 
prompter, who often played small parts, and 
the call-boy, whose duty it was to go around to 
the dressing-rooms and call out: "Half 
Hour," " Quarter Hour," and "Overture! 
Everybody down to begin." He also called 
the members of the company from the green- 
room a few minutes before their cues to go on 
the stage. 

The green-room in those days was indispen- 
sable to the theater. Its walls were usually 
adorned with old play-bills, portraits of actors, 
and engravings of scenes from plays. In a 
prominent place was the call-board, on which 
casts for plays, calls for rehearsals, and com- 
munications from the manager were posted; 
and there was also a large mirror in which 
everybody took a last look before going on the 
stage. 

The gossip of the "green-room," — all that 
was said and done within its sacred precincts, 
— were "secrets of the prison-house," and 
were kept from the knowledge of the public. 
The actors then believed that the less the pub- 
lic knew of them off the stage, the greater its 
interest would be in their stage work, — in other 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 23 

words, they sought to preserve the illusion they 
created behind the footlights. In those days 
the papers did not devote space to the trivial 
savings and doings of the people of the stage 
as they do now. 

Nor were there any unions: the musical di- 
rector and the members of the orchestra were 
engaged separately, not en masse, and so was 
the entire stage force. On Monday, the day 
when the "ghost walked," — the term used 
when salaries were forthcoming, — every one 
employed in the theater received his or her 
salary in person. 

The captain of the supers was an important 
and usually an arrogant individual, — so arro- 
gant, indeed, that there were frequent fights on 
Saturday nights after the performance when 
in the supers' room he would try to keep out 
for himself a part of their wages. An absurd 
story is told of one of these worthies. This 
particular captain was given his first lines to 
speak in "Bichard III," and he was heard at 
different times rehearsing the lines aloud, with 
varying intonations. At the performance, in- 
stead of saying as he lowered his halberd, men- 
acing Bichard III, "Stand back, my lord, and 
let the coffin pass/' he said, "Stand back, my 
lord, and let the parson cough." 

Edwin Forrest and Edwin Booth were al- 



24 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

lowed thirty-two supers, equally divided, for 
the armies in " Richard III" and " Macbeth.' ' 
The sixteen of each army came on the stage 
with their tin spears and stood in awkward at- 
titudes while the characters were speaking the 
dialogue. The armies of Macbeth and of Mac- 
duff, or of Richard and of Richmond, were all 
in sight; the audience could count the men in 
them. However, to the less profitable stars 
the manager furnished only ten supers for 
their armies. The Walnut Street Theater was 
then typical of all the stock theaters in the 
country that played stars. 

There is a distinction between the art of act- 
ing, which is the actor's art, and stage art, 
which is the art of the stage manager and pro- 
ducer. Even then there was some evidence of 
the better stage art to come. At Mrs. John 
Drew's Arch Street Theater in Philadelphia, 
at Wallack's Theater in New York, and at the 
Boston Museum excellent actors were em- 
ployed and correct productions were given. 
These theaters did not play stars except on 
rare occasions. Edwin Booth at the Winter 
Garden Theater in New York, and later at 
Booth's Theater, was the first actor of my time 
to present plays that were absolutely correct 
in every detail. 

The passing of the inclined stage made it 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 25 

possible to "box" scenes, as we do now, — that 
is, to build a room with sides. At the time of 
which I am writing the Walnut Street Theater 
and a few others in the country had a consider- 
able pitch in the stage from the back wall to the 
footlights, as had all theaters until about 1850. 

In the Old Bowery and in the Chatham 
Street Theater in New York the pit was where 
the orchestra seats are now. The floor was 
level, with long benches without backs, and the 
incline in the stage enabled the persons that 
were in the pit to see the actors. The level 
pit floor was a feature of the theater that had 
come down to us from the days of Shakes- 
peare's "groundlings." All our theaters now 
have level stages, and the pitch is in the orches- 
tra floor, as well as in the balcony and gallery. 
When the "pittites" were banished aloft they 
were called "gallery gods." The incline in 
the stage doubtless gave rise to the stage direc- 
tions "up stage" and "down stage," which 
are still in use. 

During my first season at the Walnut Street 
Theater in the spring of the year, J. B. Eoberts, 
our stage manager, organized a small company 
that was to support him the following summer 
on a tour of the neighboring towns. This 
company was composed principally of members 
of the Walnut Street Theater stock company. 



26 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

Joe Barrett, the juvenile man, a brother of 
Lawrence Barrett, was engaged by Boberts as 
his leading support, and the juvenile and 
"walking gentleman' ' parts fell to me. Just 
before the time for rehearsal Joe Barrett went 
to New York, got on a prolonged spree, and 
threw up his engagement. In the emergency, 
the leading parts were given to me to play. 
They were nearly all familiar to me, as I had 
studied the lines and had often seen them 
played. 

Mr. Boberts had coached his favorite pupil 
in all her leading roles. She was an attractive 
lady in appearance; but she was a novice, and 
her acting was amateurish. Boberts himself 
was a tragedian, and though he was small of 
stature, he had a big voice. The repertoire 
consisted of six plays, — " Othello,' ' "Biche- 
lieu," "The Bobbers," "Bichard III," "Ham- 
let," and "The Stranger," — and he was thus 
enabled to change the bill nightly. As the 
company was small, parts had to be doubled. 
Therefore in "Hamlet" I played the Ghost, 
First Actor, and Laertes: in "Bichard III," 
King Henry VI, Buckingham, and Bichmond. 
Fisher, the old man of the company, doubled 
Polonius and the Grave Digger in "Hamlet." 
Indeed, everybody in the company doubled 
parts, more or less. 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 27 

My wardrobe was limited to a few costumes 
that had been made by my dear old mother, 
while Roberts had a large personal wardrobe, 
parts of which he allowed the members of the 
company to nse. He lent me his Othello armor 
to wear when I took the part of the Ghost in 
Hamlet. 

This tour was typical of the "barn-storming" 
of those days. 

We left Philadelphia, all in good spirits, with 
a little advance salary in our pockets, and set 
out for Roberts ' native city, Wilmington, Dela- 
ware, where we were to play a week's engage- 
ment. There we were fairly successful and 
our salaries were paid Saturday night. Then 
we went over into Pennsylvania and played 
two or three nights in each town that we vis- 
ited. But business went from bad to worse, 
our salaries were reduced, and later only hotel 
bills were paid. Two members of the company 
left, but the rest of us struggled on. 

Our objective point was Reading, Pennsyl- 
vania, where we were to open a new house on 
the Fourth of July. In this venture we saw a 
prospect of our getting money enough to reach 
home. When we arrived in Reading July 1 the 
railroad company was holding our trunks for 
our railroad fares from the last town we had 
been in. Fortunately, there was sufficient ad- 



28 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

vance sale to pay the rent of the theater and 
release our trunks. Roberts got out some 
printed announcements, stating that he had 
brought his company there a few days in ad- 
vance, in order to give them a much needed 
rest before the opening performance. Schil- 
ler's romantic drama of "The Robbers' ' was 
to be the opening play and there was no one to 
play the part of Schufterle. The company 
needed two persons, as no one could double the 
part, and as all the possible doubles had already 
been made. The only alternative was to cut 
the part of Schufterle out of the play. Rob- 
erts, who was an ultra-legitimate, was loathe 
to do this ; besides, it cut him out of one of the 
best scenes for his own acting. 

The morning after our arrival a few of us 
were standing in front of our cheap hotel when 
a young fellow of the "Bowery boy" type ap- 
proached us and asked: 

"Are youse fellers wit der show!" 

"Yes," we answered. 

"D'you t'ink I cud git a job?" 

Just then Roberts joined us and heard the 
question. 

"Are you an actor?" he asked. 

"I'm in d'show business — I wuz lef here 
las' week by d'soicus." 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 29 

"What was your occupation with the cir- 
cus?" 

"I gave out dodgers, an* rode in der street 
parade dressed up as one o' dem knights." 

"Do you think you could study the lines of 
a part and play it?" 

"Yer betcher life I cud! Do yer want ter 
hear me spout now ? ' ' 

"Not now. Not here." 

Then addressing us, Eoberts said: 

"This young man might be taught to play 
the part of Schufterle. ... At any rate, we can 
try him. Mr. Pitou and Mr. Bradford, will you 
kindly go over the part with him? You have 
an hour before rehearsal begins." 

Joe Bradford and I took the young man, 
whose name was Henry Clay Jones, to our room. 
He could scarcely read the part, but we man- 
aged to teach him the lines during the next few 
days. The night of the Fourth of July it was 
very warm, and the windows were all open; 
moreover, the house had not been completely 
finished and the plaster on the walls was still 
damp. But the theater was filled, and as it 
was the first full house we had had we were all 
happy when the curtain went up on " The Bob- 
bers." 

Bradford, who shortly afterward left the 



30 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

stage and became a reporter on one of the Bos- 
ton papers, was a wit and a practical joker, and 
lie had said to me that morning: 

"I hope they pnttied the window panes se- 
curely; if not, there'll be some broken glass to- 
night when Roberts lets his voice out in that 
hall." 

In the scene where Charles de Moor, the hero 
of the play, and his band of robbers are resting 
in the woods, after having pillaged a village the 
night before, the members of the band tell of 
their individual exploits. Schufterle, a villain- 
ous character, rises to tell of his, and Henry 
Clay Jones was overcome with stage-fright. He 
had spoken his lines perfectly at rehearsals. 
In his speech he tells of how he found a woman 
standing in the doorway of her hut, with an 
infant in her arms, how he took the child from 
the mother, threw it into the flames, and then 
stabbed the mother to death. The lines sud- 
denly left him, but he retained a general idea 
of the purport of the speech, and he began with : 

u Az I waz comm* down de street I seen a 
woman wit a baby in her arms standin' at der 
doorway of a burnin' house. Well, fellers, — I 
jest snatched dat baby an' chucked it in der 
fire — then I kilt ther mother — " 

During the speech Roberts had been stand- 
ing up the stage in a pensive attitude, The 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 31 

audience did not seem to notice anything ex- 
traordinary in Henry Clay Jones' delivery of 
Schufterle's speech. They probably thought 
it was in character. But it jarred on Roberts' 
esthetic tastes, and he turned and came down 
the stage. In a rage he shouted his line to 
Schufterle : 

"Did you so?" 

Jones entirely forgot his next line. Brad- 
ford couldn't resist the temptation to whisper 
to Jones: "I'm damned if I didn't." And 
Jones repeated as loud as he could: 

"I'm damned if I didn't." 

It is a well-known fact that when an actor 
forgets a line through stage-fright he will re- 
peat the words the prompter gives him. 

Roberts was nonplussed, but the audience 
evidently thought it was a line of the play. 

The next day Roberts had money enough to 
take the company back to Philadelphia and to 
give to each member a few dollars. This ended 
my only experience of "barn-storming." 

There was a young Hungarian gentleman in 
the Walnut Street Theater company whose 
stage name was Maurice Neville ; his real name 
was Maurice Grossmann. He and I were 
about the same age, and we were friends and 
lodged together. He had a marked accent, 
which he practised hard to overcome. Indeed, 



32 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

no young actor was ever a more indefatigable 
student; he was always either reading the 
works of English authors or studying aloud 
Shakespearean roles. His ambition to attain 
greatness in his profession was prodigious and 
he possessed many attributes to win distinc- 
tion. He had an engaging personality, a 
strong, expressive face, and an overabundance 
of intensity, which would have mellowed in time 
as he progressed in his art. Unfortunately, 
our language proved to be an insurmountable 
barrier to him. His father was one of the 
Hungarian patriots who visited this country 
with Kossuth. While here he had made the 
acquaintance of many distinguished men, 
among them Longfellow, Whittier, and Dr. 
Oliver Wendell Holmes. Later, when Neville 
came to this country he brought with him let- 
ters of introduction from his father to these 
gentlemen and through them he met Edwin 
Booth, who engaged him for the Walnut Street 
Theater. 

During our association Neville and I were 
frequently invited to the Sunday night re- 
unions at the house of Grace Greenwood, who 
was a popular story writer of the day. Her 
contributions to the New York Weekly Ledger, 
owned by Eobert Bonner, helped to swell his 
fortune, and largely increased the circulation 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 33 

of the paper. There we met Mrs. Ames, the 
Boston sculptress, and Celia Thaxter, author 
of the book of poems entitled "The Isle of 
Shoals." These ladies were passing that win- 
ter with Grace Greenwood. In this charm- 
ing circle we also met many other persons who 
were then famous in literature and the arts and 
the conversation was brilliant and instructive. 

During our second season Neville was cast 
for the part of Geordie Eobertson in "Jeanie 
Deans," a dramatization of Sir Walter Scott's 
"Heart of Midlothian." In the scene where 
Effie Deans is confined in the Toblooth, Geordie 
Eobertson is passionately haranguing the 
crowd to invade the prison and rescue Effie, 
when it is announced that the Forty-first Eegi- 
ment is approaching to disperse the mob. 
Geordie appeals to his hearers to resist and 
charge upon the soldiers, and his speech ends 
with the words, "On them, boys; here comes 
the Forty-first!" Carried away by the situa- 
tion, and declaiming his lines with nervous 
force, poor Neville made a fatal faux pas: he 
cried out: "On them, boys; here come the 
Forty-onesters ! ' ' 

In our room that night he sobbed and cried. 
He was mortified, discouraged, his noble spirit 
completely crushed. As we approached the 
stage entrance the next morning some boot- 



34 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

blacks, who had evidently been in the gallery 
the night before, cried out to him, " Hello, 
Forty-onesters!" He resigned from the 
theater that very day. Later he appeared on 
the German stage in this country, playing 
" Othello' ' and other Shakespearean roles in 
German, of which language he was master. 
Shortly afterward he returned to Europe, and 
won great distinction on the stage of Vienna. 
A younger brother of Neville, Ignatius R. 
Grossmann, came to this country later. He 
was a professor of languages in one of our New 
England Colleges, and he married Edwina, the 
only daughter of Edwin Booth. 

No foreign artist who appeared in this coun- 
try ever completely mastered our language, and 
but few of those who partly mastered it won 
enduring success. Janauschek was successful 
for a time, but her popularity waned and she 
retired to live secluded in Saratoga, where she 
died in poverty. Madame Rhea was popular 
for a few years only. Madame Modjeska, how- 
ever, whose art was consummate, lasted longer 
in public favor; but she too, through lack of 
patronage, was compelled to retire to her ranch 
in California. 

So far there has been one foreign artist play- 
ing in English parts who until the time of his 
death retained his hold on our public. That 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 35 

was Charles Fechter, who was essentially a ro- 
mantic and melodramatic actor. He possessed 
the finished art of the French stage, and he 
had the emotional temperament of the Latin 
races. The part of Hamlet be played in a 
long, blond wig and with a slight blond Van 
Dyck beard. He introduced much new stage 
business in "Hamlet," particularly in the last 
act, making the superb tragedy somewhat melo- 
dramatic. Taken all in all, he was at his best 
in his version of "Monte Cristo." 

With the single exception of Sarah Bern- 
hardt, the tours in this country of foreign art- 
ists who have appeared in plays in their own 
language have not been profitable to the man- 
agers who have brought them over. Tommaso 
Salvini, Rossi, Rejane, Duse, Ristori, Coquelin 
Aine, Bogumil Dawison, Mounet-Sully, and 
Jane Hading may have personally made money 
under the exacting terms of their contracts, but 
their managers either lost or made nothing. 
The reputations of great foreign artists nat- 
urally create curiosity among our people to see 
and hear them. But they have a vogue with 
us for a short time only. Few of them revisit 
this country more than once. 

There was a unique performance of 
"Othello" given at the old Winter Garden 
Theater, in which Bogumil Dawison, the great 



36 MASTEKS OF THE SHOW 

Polish tragedian, appeared as Othello, speak- 
ing German ; Edwin Booth played Iago in Eng- 
lish; Madame Schiller, who was then Mr. 
Booth's leading lady, was Desdemona, and J. 
Newton Gothold played Cassio. Madame 
Schiller and Gothold in their scenes with Mr. 
Dawison spoke German, and in their scenes 
with Mr. Booth they spoke English. The nov- 
elty of this performance filled the theater, but 
the play thus interpreted lost its impressive- 
ness, and was somewhat grotesque. 



CHAPTER II 

CoQUELi]sr Aine and others have claimed that 
there is no such thing as genius in acting, that 
acting is art and art only. 

But to me that there is such a thing as genius 
in acting has always been self-evident. Genius 
is inborn ; art is acquired. Genius can be crea- 
tive only after art is mastered, for by the aid 
of art alone can genius express itself effec- 
tively. The painter must learn to mix his col- 
ors and to paint; the sculptor must learn to 
mold his clay and to chisel his marble, and the 
actor must learn to act. The young actor af- 
flicted with nervousness is so affected, both 
psychically and physically, that he is unable 
at the moment to grasp and interpret the 
full emotional value of his lines. Conse- 
quently he has nothing to impart to his hear- 
ers but words. No actor can convey to an 
audience the impressions made upon him by 
the lines he speaks and by the lines spoken 
by other characters in the play until he has 
become complete master of his faculties 
while he is on the stage. This self-control 
he acquires only after years of experience and 

37 



38 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

after a great deal of work in cultivating his 
art. The actor that in some great situation 
can rouse an audience to a pitch of emotional 
enthusiasm, — as did Edwin Booth when he 
threatened to "launch the curse of Rome" in 
"Richelieu," — surely gives proof of genius. 

Genius in acting is the expression of the 
higher human emotions, such as the depicting 
of our feelings when we are stirred by those 
events of life that are not commonplace occur- 
rences, but happenings that plunge us into de- 
spair or lift us with hope. The great writers 
of plays weave these dramatic events into their 
stories. The actor must not only conceive the 
subtle meaning of the author's lines in building 
up the character he is to portray, but, if he is 
to be proclaimed a genius, he must possess that 
inborn quality that will enable him to make his 
hearers feel with him. True, the geniuses of 
the stage belong to their own generations only ; 
others may learn only a little of them by read- 
ing of them in histories of the drama. Unlike 
the great of all other arts, the actor can leave 
nothing to posterity. This fact has been seized 
upon by some writers as a proof that genius 
does not belong to the stage. They argue that, 
as the actor has nothing to bequeath to future 
generations, he has no claim to the possession 
of genius. But when great expression is given 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 39 

to any art by one whose work transcends that 
of others it is stamped as the work of genins. 
Then, why may there not be genins in acting, 
even if the actor's work is limited to his own 
generation? And what is this special genins 
of the actor? — what are its attributes, its re- 
quirements? The painter, the sculptor, the 
representative of any of the arts except the 
drama, may be tall or short, fat or thin, even 
unattractive in personality, and yet he may be 
proclaimed a genius. But more is required of 
the actor. He must possess not only the in- 
born gift of the actor but also the physical at- 
tributes necessary to make his genius felt. He 
must have a voice of some power, flexible and 
sympathetic; he must have an expressive eye 
and mobile features that will reflect uncon- 
sciously the emotions he feels. He must have 
temperament and imagination, and his must be 
a mind in which the critical faculty is not over 
assertive. The predominance of imagination 
enables the actor to deceive himself into the 
belief, for the time being, that he is the char- 
acter he is portraying. His personality must 
be prepossessing; and while he need not nec- 
essarily be an Apollo, he cannot be physically 
unattractive. 

Many actors have a nervous intensity that 
is sometimes mistaken for genius; it is a sort 



40 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

of subconscious magnetism. Such actors un- 
doubtedly feel varying emotions, but they fail 
to affect their audiences, for their power is a 
negative quality, self -effective but not trans- 
mittable, — simply the earnestness of the actor, 
something more physical than psychical. 
Lawrence Barrett, John McCullough, Edwin 
Adams, E. L. Davenport, J. W. Wallack, Mrs. 
D. P. Bowers, Janauschek, and others belonged 
to this class. 

Lawrence Barrett was a student and a 
thinker. He was also a capable manager, as he 
proved when he arranged and conducted the 
largely profitable tours of Booth and Barrett. 
But no successful actor-manager was ever a 
genius. Barrett had a nervous, not an emo- 
tional, temperament. He was not creative. 
He was the leading man during the second sea- 
son at Booth's theater, and he copied every bit 
of Edwin Booth's stage business and used it 
when he later played Hamlet, Richelieu, and 
Iago. Indeed, Barrett's greatest charms were 
his voice, his perfect articulation, and his in- 
telligent reading. 

John McCullough was a self-educated man. 
He started his stage career as a super at the 
Arch Street Theater, Philadelphia, where he 
was taught the lines of the first parts he played. 
He was a disciple of Edwin Forrest's and 





W i" 

15 


mm 

t W/ A 


l 


1 Lrm 


\ 



Facing page 40 



LAWRENCE BARRETT 
In "Francesca da Rimini" 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 41 

played nearly all his repertoire. McCullough 
had a fine physique for Roman parts, and wore 
the toga with imposing effect, while his voice 
was robust and of about the same quality as 
Forrest's. 

E. L. Davenport had a large and varied rep- 
ertoire. His Hamlet was a scholarly perform- 
ance, and well interpreted, so far as the 
reading of the part was concerned. His per- 
sonality, however, was unsuited for the " mel- 
ancholy Dane." And the same criticism may 
be made of Edwin Forrest and others of his 
contemporaries that included Hamlet in their 
repertoires, — which they nearly all did. With 
the exception of Edwin Booth, they all lacked 
"the glass of fashion' ' and the "mold of 
form. ' ' Davenport was at his best as William, 
in the nautical play "Black-eyed Susan ;" as 
Sir Edward Mortimer, in "The Iron Chest ;" 
as Bill Sykes, in a dramatization of Dickens' 
"Oliver Twist," and as Sir Giles Overreach, 
in "A New Way to Pay Old Debts." 

The Hamlet of J. W. Wallack was about on 
a par with that of Davenport. Wallack's per- 
formance of Macbeth was admired for its sub- 
tle depicting of Macbeth's remorse and his 
horror at the appearance of the ghost of 
Banquo. He made it plain that in the murder- 
ing of his guest, King Duncan, he was but the 



42 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

instrument of Lady Macbeth's ambition. His 
Macbeth, like tbat of Booth and Irving, was 
notable principally because of its mentality. 
It reflected the workings of a mind influenced 
by the civilization of the Elizabethan epoch 
rather than that of a mind of the feudal ages. 
Like Booth and Irving, Wallack did not sug- 
gest the semi-barbarism of the feudal warrior. 
In this character, Edwin Forrest made the con- 
flict between the physical and the metaphysical 
Macbeth more apparent and effective. Wal- 
lack drew his largest audiences when he ap- 
peared as the leading character in "The Man 
With the Iron Mask"; as King James V. of 
Scotland, in "The King of the Commons, ,, and 
as Fagin, in "Oliver Twist." 

I once played Toby Crackit in a remarkable 
cast of "Oliver Twist" at the Walnut Street 
Theater. E. L. Davenport was the Bill Sykes, 
Lucile Western the Nancy Sykes, and J. W. 
Wallack the Fagin. This combination drew 
crowded houses for a week. 

Lucile Western was a genius without educa- 
tion, and she possessed but little of the art of 
acting. This made it impossible for her to sat- 
isfy intelligent and critical audiences, but she 
was one of the most popular actresses of her 
time with the masses ; and she swayed them by 
her undoubted genius. Physically she was al- 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 43 

most masculine. She could stand the strain of 
repeated performances without an apparent 
let-up of emotional intensity. But her acting 
was not refined. As Lady Isabel in "East 
Lynne," a dramatization of a novel largely 
read at that time, she was the woman, not the 
highborn lady. Almost every emotional star 
and leading stock actresses in those days played 
Lady Isabel in "East Lynne,' ' which was pop- 
ular at the time, and was said to draw more 
money than any other play except "Uncle 
Tom's Cabin.' ' In pathetic scenes Lucile 
Western's eyes would fill with tears and her 
audience would weep with her; she could feel 
emotions and convey them to the masses not- 
withstanding that her art was crude. The 
parts that best fitted her personality were 
Miami, the Indian Girl, in "Green Bushes," 
and Nancy Sykes in "Oliver Twist." As 
Nancy Sykes she gave a most vivid stage pic- 
ture of a fallen woman clinging, through her 
affections, to a man that brutally beat her. 
Hers was a nature easily imposed upon; she 
could affect others by her acting and she her- 
self was easily affected in real life, conse- 
quently she was the victim of many bogus 
appeals for charity, and she probably gave 
away more than half of her earnings. 
Edwin Adams was of a volatile and jovial 



44 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

disposition, much given to boyish pranks and 
innocent jestings. His present to Maggie 
Mitchell and her husband, Henry Paddock, on 
the occasion of their wooden wedding was a 
cord of wood, a saw, and a buck. He did not 
take things seriously either on or off the stage. 
Because of his fine disposition he had a greater 
number of friends and acquaintances through- 
out the country than any actor of his day, and 
his memory for faces and names was marvelous. 
He would alight from a train at some city in 
which he was to play that week, and greet a 
group of people who had come to the station to 
meet him each by name as he shook hands with 
them, though he may not have met one of them 
for a year. This peculiar trait no doubt added 
much to his popularity. He was convivial and 
liked the company of convivial spirits, and he 
was much sought after and entertained. He 
loved life at its highest tension, and he had but 
little time for study and serious thought. He, 
too, played Hamlet, and other serious roles, 
but he was essentially a light comedian. With 
his nature, he could not have been anything 
else. His Rover, a strolling actor, in "Wild 
Oats," and his Charles Surface in "The School 
for Scandal" were among his best parts. He 
played Mercutio in "Romeo and Juliet" on the 
opening night and during the run of the play at 



MASTEKS OF THE SHOW 45 

Booth's Theater, and the press and public 
justly pronounced his the best performance of 
the part that had ever been given. Life meant 
a great deal to Edwin Adams, but, like his 
favorite character, the mercurial Mercutio, he 
died too young. 



CHAPTER III 

Edwin Foekest belonged to the robust school 
of tragedians that had preceded him. David 
Garrick, Edmond Keane, and Junius Brutus 
Booth were of this school, and from the tradi- 
tions of the green-room and the accounts that 
I have read of these actors I am impressed 
with the belief that they possessed genius. I 
have spoken with actors, long since dead, who 
had played with some of them, and who de- 
scribed them as having had great intensity, 
temperament, and the power to express emo- 
tions and thrill their hearers. Their audiences 
must have demanded vigorous acting, for these 
actors were declamatory and strident. And, 
great geniuses as they were, they were seldom 
absolutely correct in the costuming of their 
roles, as may be seen from engravings of them. 
Edwin Forrest had a clientele of cultured per- 
sons, for he was a scholarly actor, and his 
intelligent work commanded their respect; his 
great following, however, was among the 
masses, and he was their idol as Jack Cade, 
Metamora, and Damon, in " Damon and 
Pythias.' ' So great was his popularity in 

46 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 47 

Philadelphia, where he made his home, that 
he usually played two engagements each sea- 
son at the Walnut Street Theater. 

When Mr. Forrest came to play his spring en- 
gagement, — during my first season, — he re- 
fused to include Eichelieu in his repertoire un- 
less some young man was cast for the part of 
Frangois. The part had always been played 
by the soubrette whose line of business included 
all boy parts. Francois is a young acolyte in 
the household of Eichelieu, and, though his is 
a small part, it is an important one. Forrest 
realized the absurdity of a woman's playing 
such a part. Barton Hill, who was then trav- 
eling with Mr. Forrest as his leading support, 
and who usually directed rehearsals, selected 
me for Francois. There were only two re- 
hearsals of the play, neither of which Mr. For- 
rest attended. Up to that time it was the most 
important part that had been entrusted to me, 
and when the night of the performance arrived 
I was what actors term "dead letter perfect.' ' 
Mr. Forrest was exacting, and the knowledge 
of this made me nervous. 

During the action of the play Frangois, who 
has been sent on a secret mission by Eichelieu, 
returns and announces his failure. When I 
spoke the line, "This purse of gold," Mr. For- 
rest as Eichelieu exclaimed, "Gold is no 



48 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

proof.' ' On the impulse of the moment, I 
threw away the purse, in the direction of the 
footlights. After my exit I stood in the wings 
watching the balance of the scene. Later on, 
de Mauprat confessed to Eichelieu that he was 
the leader of a conspiracy against the Cardi- 
nal's life, and the conspirators were heard ap- 
proaching, crying out, "Death to the Cardi- 
nal!" 

Eichelieu said that he would baffle them, and 
he went out with de Mauprat and his ward 
Julie, closing the center doors after him. The 
conspirators came on; de Mauprat threw open 
the doors, showing Eichelieu lying on his bed, 
and pointed to Eichelieu, saying, ' ' Strangled in 
his sleep, so runs the tale." He urged them 
to hasten back to Paris with the news that 
Eichelieu was in heaven; and the conspirators 
rushed off, crying, "I shall be rich — I shall be 
noble." Then Eichelieu joined de Mauprat, 
standing in the open door, laughing in triumph 
at having outwitted the conspirators. 

The purse, one of those old-fashioned knit- 
ted property purses, liberally stuffed in each 
end with bits of tin and glass to make a 
jingling sound, — had entirely slipped my mind, 
and nobody had noticed it. At that time 
painted flats, — canvas stretched on frames run- 
ning in grooves, — were used to close in the 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 49 

scenes. The prompter blew his whistle, the 
stage hands shoved the flats, and the sheave of 
the one on the left side of the stage encountered 
the purse and refused to go any farther. Eich- 
elieu and de Mauprat remained standing in 
tableau. The flat was pulled back and tried 
again; this time the obstacle was discovered, 
and one of the carpenters, in his shirt sleeves 
and in full view of the audience, raised the 
end of the flat and removed the purse. The 
audience was shouting and laughing, and Mr. 
Forrest, swearing loud enough to be heard, left 
the stage. Of course the scene had been 
ruined. What would be the consequences? 
As soon as the act was over the members 
of the company assembled in the green-room 
and were discussing my mishap and sympa- 
thizing with me when Mr. Forrest's dresser 
appeared in the doorway and asked: 

"Is Mr. Pitouhere?" 

i ' Yes, ' y I answered. 

"Mr. Forrest wants to see you in his dress- 
ing-room. ' ' 

As I left the green-room the old lady of the 
company said, loud enough for me to hear : 

"Poor young man!" 

As an outcome of my fear and anxiety, I was 
almost defiant when I knocked at the door of 
Mr. Forrest's dressing-room. 



50 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

"Come in!" was the firm reply to my rap. 

I entered. 

Mr. Forrest looked at me sharply for a mo- 
ment and then asked: 

"Who told you to throw that purse on the 
stage f" 

"Nobody. You said gold was no proof, so 
I threw it away." 

"Good! Only next time throw it up the 
stage. ' ' 

"Yes, sir." 

"You may go now." 

"Thank you, sir." 

I left the dressing-room of this "tyrant of 
the stage, ' ' as he was called by actors, knowing 
that he was a just and humane man. 

At rehearsal once an actor was speaking an 
important speech when Mr. Forrest interrupted 
him with: 

"No, no; that's not the way to read the 
speech! Eead it like this!" and Mr. Forrest 
read the lines. 

When he had finished the actor said: 

"If I could read it like that, Mr. Forrest, I 
wouldn't be playing utility business for twelve 
dollars a week. ' ' 

"Is that all you get?" inquired Mr. Forrest. 

"Yes, sir." 




EDWIN FORREST 
As Damon 



Facing pag: 51 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 51 

"Well, then, you can read it as you damn 
please ! ' ' 

The same season, after I had played Fran- 
cois, the part of Marcellus in "Damon and 
Pythias" was assigned to me. Mr. Forrest 
supplied a sort of leather harness for Marcel- 
lus to wear under his Eoman shirt, — an affair 
with two straps to buckle around the body, and 
a handle like that of a shawl strap for him to 
grasp when he threw Marcellus across the 
stage. When, as Marcellus, I fell upon my 
knees and announced to Damon that I had 
slain his horse so that he could not go to ran- 
som Pythias with his own life, Forrest inserted 
his hand down the back of my Eoman shirt and 
seized hold of the loop. I saw my opportunity ; 
and as he threw me off, being lithe and supple 
I gave a spring and landed ten feet across the 
stage, all in a heap. Forrest was surprised 
and he looked around to see what had become 
of me. The applause that greeted this exhibi- 
tion was tremendous, and he was apparently 
delighted, for he was very proud of his physical 
strength and liked to show his muscular legs 
and arms in Eoman costume. After the cur- 
tain was down he sent for me, apologized for 
being so energetic, and asked me if I were 
hurt. I answered that I was all right, and 



52 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

only hoped that next time he would throw me 
a few feet farther. 

At another time the part of a young Indian 
runner in "Metamora" was given to me to 
play. The story is as follows : Metamora re- 
ceives word that his tribe is shortly to be at- 
tacked by the white troops; he sends his wife 
and child for safety, in charge of the young 
Indian runner to a neighboring friendly tribe ; 
his wife and child are captured by the whites, 
and the young Indian fights his way through 
them and returns to Metamora wounded, but 
with news of the capture. The property men 
and stage hands at that time were fond of play- 
ing jokes on young actors, and the property 
man gave me a knife about three feet long that 
looked like a machette. 

"Isn't this too long?" I asked. 

"No," he answered; "that's the knife always 
used for that part." 

When Mr. Forrest saw me rush in upon the 
scene and strike an attitude, holding the 
bloody knife in front of me, he looked surprised 
and puzzled. During my speech his eyes wan- 
dered from the handle of that knife to its point, 
and then from the top of my head to my feet, as 
if he were comparing our respective lengths. 
When the scene was over he asked : 

"Where did you get that knife?" 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 53 

' ' From the property man, ' ' I quickly replied. 

"He played a mean trick on yon. He ought 
to be well thrashed." 

"I'll thrash him," I said; and I did. 

After the Marcellus episode Mr. Forrest al- 
ways greeted me pleasantly when we met in 
the theater, and sometimes he spoke a few 
words of encouragement to me. Toward the 
end of his engagement he invited me to call on 
him. At the time he was living in an impos- 
ing mansion on Broad Street. On my way to 
visit him for the first time I stopped at a sec- 
ond-hand book stall and bought Dugald Stew- 
art's "Philosophy of the Human Mind." Mr. 
Forrest was standing at the window of his 
house and saw me approaching, and in a few 
moments, after I had left my hat and coat and 
the book with the butler, he joined me in the 
library and gave me his hand in greeting. The 
first thing he said was : 

"I saw a book under your arm; what was 
it?" 

I told him. 

"A very good book," he said; "I've read 
it." 

Then he picked up a book from the table and 
said: 

"Have you ever read this book?" 

"What book is it?" I asked. 



54 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

"The Bible," he replied, looking straight at 
me. 

1 ' I have read parts of it. ' ' 

"You should read it through and carefully 
study it, not because it is claimed to have been 
divinely inspired, but for its philosophy. From 
it Shakespeare and other great writers took 
inspiration and suggestions for their philo- 
sophical teachings." 

These were Mr. Forrest's exact words. I 
wrote them down that very day. 

He showed me his books and his collection 
of paintings ; then he took me into his gymna- 
sium, and told me that he passed an hour there 
each day exercising. To show me how strong 
he was he took up a fifty-pound dumbbell and 
raised it above his head, and as he put it on 
the floor he laughingly said: 

"Now you understand how I came to throw 
you so far up the stage that night." 

I was amused; but I said nothing. 

Edwin Forrest came the following fall to 
play an engagement at the theater; then some 
years passed before we met again. 

My second season at the Walnut Street The- 
ater was during Edwin Booth's engagement, 
when Francois and a number of youthful parts 
in his repertoire were allotted to me. At that 
time the Booth's Theater was being built in 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 55 

New York, and Mr. Booth engaged me for his 
company at a salary of thirty dollars a week, 
just double what it was then. 



CHAPTER IV 

Booth's Theater was situated on the south- 
east corner of Sixth Avenue and Twenty-third 
Street in New York City. It was built by Mr. 
Booth with the assistance of a very dear friend 
of his, and was the most complete theater in 
every respect that, up to that time, had been 
erected in this country. It cost over one hun- 
dred thousand dollars more than the original 
estimate. 

The carpenter shops for the building of scen- 
ery, and the property shop for the making of 
properties, were under the sidewalk on the 
Twenty- third Street side. In the building was 
a large costume department where all the cos- 
tumes were made, and this department was 
under the supervision of a Mr. Joyce, a schol- 
arly man, whose researches had made him an 
authority. There was also a small housekeep- 
ing apartment where Mr. Booth lived; and on 
the top floor there were a gymnasium for the 
use of the members of the company and a room 
where fencing was taught by a maltre des 
armes to about a hundred young men who took 
part in " Romeo and Juliet." 

56 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 57 

Under the stage an excavation fifty feet deep 
had been made through solid rock, and this 
excavation had added largely to the cost of 
the theater. The purpose of it was that scenes 
might be lowered out of sight and raised by 
hydraulic power through narrow openings run- 
ning across the stage. This innovation was 
the beginning of the end of the old flats that 
ran in grooves. 

The most competent men of that day were 
at the head of every department of Booth's 
Theater; the best scenic artists were on the 
paint frames; the company was large, it drew 
high salaries, and the expenses were enormous. 

Mr. Booth had selected "Borneo and Juliet" 
as the opening play for his new theater for two 
reasons: because he had expected to appear in 
it at the matinee the day of the Winter Garden 
Theater fire, and because he wished to intro- 
duce Mary McVickar, his wife, to the New 
York public as Juliet. Once while Mr. Booth 
was playing an engagement at McVickar 's 
Theater in Chicago the leading lady of the com- 
pany was taken suddenly ill, and there was 
no one in the company to play Juliet in 
"Komeo and Juliet" that night. To the sur- 
prise of everybody, the daughter of the man- 
ager of the theater, — Mary McVickar, a young 
girl who had just been graduated from school, 



58 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

— offered to play the part, saying she knew 
every line of it and every bit of stage business. 
She was given the opportunity, and she ac- 
quitted herself with credit, proving that she 
possessed dramatic talent of a high order. 
Later she played other parts with Mr. Booth 
during that engagement; his courtship of her 
followed, and they were shortly afterward mar- 
ried. She was his second wife, his first having 
been Mary Devlin, the mother of his daughter 
Edwina. Mary McVickar died a few years 
after she married Mr. Booth, and he remained 
a widower until his death. 

Below is a programme of the opening night 
in Booth's Theater. Very few of that cast, 
besides myself, are living to-day. Indeed, I 
know positively that all but three are dead, and 
I am not sure that those three are still living. 

CAST OF ROMEO AND JULIET 

Opening Night, Booth's Theater, February 3, 1869 

Escalus, Prince of Verona Mr. A. Pitou 

Paris, a Young Nobleman, Kinsman to the Prince 

Mr. Fred. Monroe 

Montague, *} Mr. Thomas J. Hind 

Heads of two houses, at 
"variance with each other 

Capulet, J Mr. A. W. Fenno 

An Old Man of the Capulet Family Mr. W. C. Drummond 

Romeo, Son to Montague, Mr. Edwin Booth 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 59 

Mercutio, Kinsman to the Prince, and friend to Romeo, .... 

Mr. Edwin Adams 
Benvolio, Nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo, .... 

Mr. Charles Norris 

Tybalt, Nephew to Lady Capulet, Mr. Harry Langdon 

Friar Lawrence, A Franciscan, Mr. Mark Smith 

Friar John, of the same order, Mr. J. P. Deuel 

Balthazar, Servant to Romeo, Mr. G. A. Vinton 

Peter, "J Mr. Charles Peters 

Sampson, I . Servants to Capulet, Mr. John Chatterson 

Gregory, J .Mr. Nelson Decker 

Abraham, Servant to Montague, Mr. Henry Hogan 

An Apothecary Mr. Hector Mackey 

First Musician Mr. Augustus Waters 

Second Musician Mr. W. H. V. Wintle 

Third Musician Mr. C. J. Dade 

Lady Capulet, Wife to Capulet, Miss E. V. Proudfoot 

Juliet, Daughter to Capulet, Miss Mary McVickar 

Nurse to Juliet Miss Fanny Morant 

Kinsfolk of both Houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen and 
Attendants. 

This theater was the realization of Edwin 
Booth's ambition, — a "Temple of Art," to be 
devoted to the presentation of Shakespeare's 
plays and the plays of other great dramatists. 
But unfortunately he could not carry out his 
plans. Then, as now, a theater thus restricted 
could not be pecuniarily successful, as has been 
lately again proved by the fate of the New 
Theater in New York, which was built by a 
number of wealthy gentlemen who had mistaken 
ideas of theatrical conditions and the require- 
ments of the public. 



60 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

Edwin Booth was justly proud of having his 
own theater in which he conld produce lavishly 
under his own supervision the plays of his 
repertoire. The triumph of that opening night, 
the laudatory comments of the press, the eu- 
logies of admirers and friends because of his 
praiseworthy effort to elevate his art, doubtless 
compensated him at the time, but the result of 
his effort was his bankruptcy. 

The seats and boxes for the opening had all 
been sold by auction, and when the curtain went 
up the theater was filled with one of the most 
distinguished audiences ever assembled on such 
an occasion, for people had come from distant 
cities to be present. 

Before this time the stage version of Gar- 
rick's had been played, but on this occasion 
the text of Shakespeare was followed closely. 
In the first act the entire great stage repre- 
sented a square in Verona, and when the serv- 
ants of the houses of Montague and Capulet 
started a quarrel that was eventually partici- 
pated in by the retainers and heads of both 
factions, over one hundred combatants, with 
drawn swords, engaged in the melee. The 
sound of trumpets was heard in the distance, 
and the Prince of Verona entered, preceded by 
his guards and a number of lords. It was an 
imposing entrance, at a dramatic moment. 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 61 

Part of the audience, mistaking me for Edwin 
Booth, started to give me his reception, and I 
broke into the applause with my first lines end- 
ing with : 

"Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground 
And hear the sentences of your moved prince." 

The fighting on the stage ceased, in the audi- 
ence there was a wave of half-suppressed 
laughter and a rustling of programmes, and 
Mr. Booth, standing in the wings, motioned 
to me and said, "Wait." As I fully realized 
the situation, it was an ordeal for me. How- 
ever, in a few seconds, that seemed as many 
minutes, the audience quieted, but when I made 
my exit there was again applause. Some of 
the newspapers the next day commented upon 
the event, and it was often remarked that there 
was a resemblance between Mr. Booth and me. 
Our hair and eyes were of the same color, but 
he was ten years older than I was and over 
an inch taller. And I had a slight black mous- 
tache, while he was always clean-shaven. 

During the run of "Romeo and Juliet" Mr. 
Booth was greatly annoyed by a woman who 
went to the different stores and bought goods on 
credit, representing herself to be his wife. Of 
course when Mr. Booth received the bills he 
discovered the fraud. And when the woman 



62 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

was confronted by a detective she brazenly as- 
serted that Edwin Booth had married her years 
before in San Francisco, and that he was the 
father of her child. The detective had been 
instructed to proceed cautiously in the matter 
in order to avoid publicity, so he had the 
woman shadowed and then he reported his in- 
terview with her. She had defied him to ar- 
rest her. 

Mr. Booth then consulted his lawyer and a 
friend, Judge Dowling, a well-known character 
and criminal judge during the Tweed regime. 

One evening shortly afterward he said to 
me: 

"I want you to do me a favor." 

"With pleasure; what is it?" I replied. 

"It involves a personal sacrifice on your 
part," he said, smiling. 

"What sacrifice?" 

"The shaving off of your moustache. Will 
you do it?" 

"Certainly." 

He then told me the story of the mysterious 
woman and that Judge Dowling had hit upon 
a plan to unmask her. The plan was to con- 
front the woman with me and have her mistake 
me for Edwin Booth. 

The next day the woman was quietly arrested 
on some trivial charge, taken before Judge 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 63 

Dowling, and sent to Blackwell's Island for 
ten days. The following morning at ten 
o'clock, minus my moustache, I met Mr. Booth, 
his lawyer, and Judge Dowling at the theater. 
We all got into a carriage and were driven to 
a pier on the East River, from which we took 
the Department boat to BlackwelPs Island. 
On our arrival we were met by the warden, 
who escorted us to his office. Mr. Booth al- 
ways wore a black derby hat, and, in the winter, 
a paletot. Judge Dowling said, " Edwin, let 
Mr. Pitou put on your hat and paletot.' * 
After this was done he looked at me for a mo- 
ment and said: "It's all right; our plan will 
succeed. . . . Now, warden, take this young 
man over to the workhouse. You understand 
everything; so does he. We'll wait here." 

We entered a large room where three or four 
dozen women, in charge of a matron, were 
sewing. The women all looked up at us, and 
one, throwing her work aside, rushed toward 
me, crying: "Oh, Edwin! My husband! I 
knew you would come to me. ' ' Before the war- 
den could interfere, she threw her arms around 
my neck. He pushed her away, and we quickly 
left the room. When we reached the office he 
explained to the others what had happened, and 
Judge Dowling instructed him to fetch the 
woman. Then he told Mr. Booth to go into the 



64 MASTEBS OF THE SHOW 

next room and remain there until lie called 
him. 

When the warden returned with the woman 
she was surprised at seeing Judge Dowling. 
She seemed puzzled for a moment, and then 
she fixed her eyes on me. Judge Dowling said 
to her, pointing to me : 

"You claim that this gentleman, Mr. Booth, 
is your husband V 9 

She answered: "Yes; he knows he is, and 
the father of my child. You can't deny it, 
Edwin." 

Judge Dowling called into the other room, 
"Come here!" and Mr. Booth entered. The 
woman was startled. Half dazed she looked 
at Mr. Booth and then at me. 

Judge Dowling said sharply: "Which of 
these men is Edwin Booth, and which is your 
husband? They can't both be." 

She threw up her arms and cried: "My 
God! I'm trapped!" 

Then she became hysterical and begged for 
mercy. She confessed that she had never seen 
Edwin Booth except on the stage and on the 
street years before in San Francisco and lately 
in New York. Knowing that he was married, 
and believing that he would pay her hush 
money, she had planned the blackmail. 

Judge Dowling told the warden to take her 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 65 

away, and after they had left the room he 
said: 

"She'll get a few years for this." 

"No; I don't want that," said Mr. Booth. 

"What do you want?" asked the Judge. 

"Get her confession in writing, give her 
some money, and send her back to San Fran- 
cisco. ' * 

"What! After all the annoyance she has 
caused you?" 

"Yes; it's all over now. I considered my 
wife in this matter, not myself," replied Mr. 
Booth. 

We had lunch with the warden, and after- 
ward we returned to the city. 

That woman was fortunate in having a man 
of Edwin Booth's gentle nature to pass judg- 
ment on her, and the reporters of the day did 
not get hold of the story for a sensational 
write-up. 

Lately a Shakespearean actor of some promi- 
nence, associating the name of Edwin Booth 
with that of Edwin Forrest and Lawrence Bar- 
rett, made assertions in print that were mis- 
leading. His statements were endorsed, — 
innocently, I would believe, — in a New York 
paper by a gentleman whose views on things 
theatrical are usually correct. I doubt if 
these gentlemen ever saw Edwin Booth on the 



66 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

stage when he was in possession of his full 
powers. If they did, it was at a time when 
their judgment was immature, and therefore 
they are incapable of reaching a conclusion 
worthy of public utterance. 

Mr. Booth's art was the best of the actor's 
art that is now prevalent. His school was the 
natural school of to-day, for it was he who in- 
troduced it; he was neither " declamatory 9 ' nor 
" strident.' ' At the dress rehearsal of " Bo- 
rneo and Juliet" he said to me, " Don't stride 
so; walk naturally." In his advice to the 
players, in his scene with the grave digger in 
"Hamlet" and in numerous quiet scenes of 
other plays, his delivery was conversational, but 
always earnest. And E. H. Sothern, who is of 
to-day, treats these scenes in "Hamlet" in the 
same way. 

When Edwin Booth played a joint engage- 
ment with Henry Irving in London the press 
and public of that city did not pronounce his 
art "archaic." Indeed, his school of acting 
and Mr. Irving 's were identical, but Mr. Ir- 
ving had mannerisms and Mr. Booth had none. 
These mannerisms of Mr. Irving 's were con- 
stitutional, and they had nothing to do with his 
art, nor with his school of acting. 

Edwin Booth's genius when he was at his 
best would as surely thrill a Broadway audi- 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 67 

ence to-day as it did in the past. He would 
not be " hooted from the stage," nor would he 
be considered an " archaic curio sity." 

What our present-day Shakespearean actors 
lack is not Edwin Booths art, but his genius. 
Shakespeare was never so widely read and 
taught as now; in all our schools and colleges 
he is foremost in classes of English literature, 
and if he is less popular on the stage it is the 
fault of his interpreters. His students evi- 
dently find him more impressive in the class- 
room and in the library. 

Edwin Booth's temperament was emotional; 
his tastes were artistic. He associated with 
scholarly and esthetic people, and he numbered 
among his friends and admirers the most emi- 
nent men of his time, but his audiences were 
composed of all classes, from the cultured to 
the unlettered "gods of the gallery/ ' and his 
genius affected them all. His impulses in real 
life were the same as those of all men of genius 
who pursue art. His feelings were easily ap- 
pealed to, and he was always generous with 
his brother actors, for whom he professed 
friendship. 

The seasons that Edwin Adams and Law- 
rence Barrett were his leading support, he 
gave each of them an opportunity to appear 
as stars at Booth's Theater, — Edwin Adams, 



68 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

in "Narcisse" and " Enoch. Arden," and Law- 
rence Barrett, in "The Man o' Airlie." His 
generosity, however, helped to swell his losses. 
He had no capacity for business, figures and 
accounts being as distasteful to him as they are 
to all geniuses. His business interests were 
looked after by J. Henry Magonigle, manager 
of the theater, who frequently warned him 
against his extravagance in the production of 
plays. But expense meant nothing to Mr. 
Booth; recognition of his artistic achievements 
was all that he desired. 

Booth passed a great deal of his time on 
the stage, on the paint frames, in the costume 
department, and in the carpenter shop and the 
property room. He was constantly consulting 
with the heads of these different departments, 
and he often lingered for hours on the paint 
frame, smoking his pipe and chatting with his 
favorite scenic artist, Charles Witham, of 
whom he said in my hearing, "A better scenic 
artist never put brush to canvas.' ' He loved 
to watch one of his great productions grow 
from day to day until its completion realized 
his concept. 

He had a small coterie of intimates in whose 
company he found pleasure and mental relaxa- 
tion, but he had no social ambitions, and he 
avoided the attentions that fashionable soci- 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 69 

ety was at different times eager to have him 
accept. In fact his life was his theater and 
there he virtually lived. This confinement 
doubtless contributed to his physical break- 
down, which was followed by his too early 
death, — much too early, for he was unquestion- 
ably the greatest actor of his age. 

I have reason to cherish and revere his mem- 
ory, for he was interested in the outcome of my 
professional career, and he gave me his valua- 
ble advice at a time when it was necessary for 
me to decide what my future should be. I am 
glad now to have the opportunity to defend 
his fame against those who would belittle it. 
He honored me with his friendship while he 
lived, and he was my ideal as an actor. During 
my two seasons at his theater, I watched and 
studied him while he was acting, and uncon- 
sciously, as is too often the case with young 
persons, I grew to imitate him in voice and 
gesture. When the realization that I was do- 
ing this dawned upon me I sought an engage- 
ment elsewhere, and these were my last 
performances with Mr. Booth. Some years 
later I wrote to him for his advice, and two 
years after having written my first letter I had 
occasion to write to him again. During the 
interval between my letters, I met him only a 
few times, and then casually. 



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MASTEES OF THE SHOW 73 

Below I give the letters that lie wrote in an- 
swer to mine, — letters that are now published 
for the first time. In one is shown his kindly 
interest in young actors ; in the other he reveals 
his innermost thoughts and desires. As some 
persons may find it difficult to read his writing, 
I have thought best to have the contents of his 
letters printed, in addition to presenting the 

originals. 

"Long Branch, June 4th, 1871. 
"My dear Pitou: 

"Having a sincere regard for you, I do not hesitate to give 
what you so frankly ask, — my candid opinion as to your ad- 
vancement and future prospects as an actor. Your progress 
has been rapid, but I fear there is for you very little beyond 
the point you have reached. You have failed to rid yourself 
of certain peculiarities which mark the novice, and which, I 
fear, are constitutional, never to be shaken off. Your voice 
lacks compass and power, and, while your face interests, it 
lacks the mobility requisite for the delineation of varied pas- 
sions. I hardly think you will ever attain a position that will 
satisfy you, for I know your ambition to be worthy, and 
deserving of a higher reward than Melpomene, I fear, will ever 
grant you. You have asked my advice in a frank and manly 
way, and I give what I truly feel to be the truth, an opinion 
based on a closer and more zealous care for you than perhaps 
you ever dreamed of. For I have watched you with interest, 
during your career, delighted and grieved, at times, but afraid 
to assist you by practical illustration, lest you should acquire, 
unconsciously, a habit of imitation. Believe me, my friend, I 
could not speak (or write this, rather) did I not feel a sin- 
cere interest in you. It's a very delicate thing to handle, — 
this self-esteem, — and I would rather a thousand times be 
hurt than hurt another. But you, I am sure, will receive what 



74 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

you have sought with the same feelings of kindness that have 
induced me to give it. 

With my best wishes for your future welfare, believe me, 

"Ever your friend, 

"Edwin Booth." 

[Mr. Booth having written the letter that follows in purple 
ink, now greatly faded, it could not be reproduced by photo- 
graphic process. — The Publishers.] 

"Chicago, March 9th, 1873. 
"Aug. Pitou, Esq., 

"Dear Sir: In giving you the opinion you solicited, I did 
not mean to convey so false an impression as it appears I did. 
I did not think you would attain eminence, and that alone can 
render the actor's life endurable. I thought there would be, 
possibly, a better field for you elsewhere, one, perhaps, less 
fascinating, yet freer from the rocks of disappointment that so 
many 'young ambitions' split upon. I am glad, however, that 
you were prevented from following my advice. All successful 
men, I fancy, are to a certain extent fatalists, and I, for one, 
believe much in Destiny. 

I had no desire to become an actor, my father opposed it, 
and yet, you see — ! Successful as I have been, hard as I have 
labored, and notwithstanding the vast amount of money that 
I have squandered in the cause of art — I would cheerfully 
retire to the "calm comforts of a happy home" if Fate would 
let me. But I am a galley slave, chained to the oar and 
must row on forever, something always prevents my getting 
free. This may seem like affectation, but it is solid truth. 
'Twas in this spirit that I wrote you, and, with this feeling, I 
advise all who ask my aid in this direction. However, there 
is, perhaps, no employment that pays better, and assuredly 
there is none more honorable if rightly followed. I am glad 
of your success and will be always pleased to hear of your ad- 
vancement. Mr. McVickar received your letter, but his com- 
pany is more than full already, having several that he cannot 
use. You know I have not seen you since he saw you at my 
place and consequently I can tell him no more than what he 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 75 

knows already regarding your professional ability. I presume 
Magonigle has filled my list for next season — as I leave all such 
matters to him, and I gave him my views before I quitted 
home. Will you be kind enough to say to Mr. Stevens that I 
received his letter and regret my inability to visit him this 
season? I injured my forefinger last night in the combat 
with Macduff or I would write him. By telling him this 
and thus saving me the inconvenience of scrawling with three 
digits, you will greatly oblige 

"Yours very truly, 

"Edwin Booth." 

Versatility on the stage may indicate that 
an actor is an artist, but never that he is a 
genius, for he cannot be great both as a trage- 
dian and as a comedian. He may, from culti- 
vation of his art, be capable as both, but if he 
be acceptable as both he will never be potent in 
either. As Hamlet, Eichelieu, Shylock, Iago, 
Eichard III, and in "The Fool's Revenge' ' 
Edwin Booth gave evidence of his genius, while 
in the other roles of his repertoire he was only 
the artist. His Petruchio in "The Taming of 
the Shrew" and his Benedick in "Much Ado 
about No thing" were not effective, for he was 
not a comedian. When he alternated Othello 
and Iago with Lawrence Barrett, the nights he 
played Iago the theater was filled to its capac- 
ity, but when he appeared as Othello the 
theater was never full. 

During the long run of "Hamlet" I played 
Horatio. Mr. Booth desired that, as Horatio, 



76 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

I should look a trifle older than he did as Ham- 
let, so I made up with a reddish blond wig and 
a slight beard, which made me appear the 
elder, and the contrast when we were together 
on the stage was effective. Mr. Booth in his 
performance endeavored in many ways to con- 
vey to his audience Hamlet's affection for Hor- 
atio, and frequently during the play he would 
put his arm caressingly around my shoulders. 
In the churchyard scene when the funeral pro- 
cession entered bearing the body of Ophelia 
Hamlet retires with Horatio to the shade of 
some trees, to watch unseen. There is quite an 
interval before Hamlet again speaks. One 
night during the obsequies Mr. Booth, leaning 
on my shoulders, whispered to me: 

"Do you know that gentleman sitting with 
the two young ladies in my box?" 

I answered, "No." 

"Well, he's Mr. John A. Robinson, of Bos- 
ton, my best friend and my partner. While I 
was playing at the Winter Garden Theater a 
number of men of wealth and position in this 
city said to me at different times, 'Why don't 
you build a theater of your own farther up 
town?' My answer was that I hoped to some 
day, but that I hadn't capital enough for that 
yet. One gentleman said, mentioning the 
names of several others who had spoken to me 




EDWIN BOOTH 
As Hamlet 



Facing page 77 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 77 

on the subject, 'Oh, we'll furnish the money.' 
After the Winter Garden Theater burned 
down I went to some of these gentlemen. 
They buttoned up their pockets. I was dis- 
appointed, and I felt badly about it. I had 
believed they were sincere in their offers, and 
I wanted a theater of my own in New York. 
One day shortly afterward I met that prince 
of good fellows there in my box. He said: 
'What's the matter, Ned? You look dejected?' 
I told him what I have just told you. 'How 
much do you need?' he asked. 'Oh, at least 
two hundred thousand dollars,' I replied. 'All 
right, I'll let you have it,' he said. 'You!' I 
exclaimed. I was surprised, for I didn't know 
he was a man of great wealth. 'We'll look 
around and secure a site at once,' he said. 
Shortly afterward this property was bought — " 

Just then I heard Hamlet's cue, "A minister- 
ing angel shall my sister be when thou liest 
howling," spoken by Laertes. 

"That's your cue," I said to Mr. Booth, who 
was looking intently at the box. 

"What is it?" he whispered. 

' ' The fair Ophelia, ' ' I answered. 

Almost instantly he was again Hamlet. He 
left my side, which he had never done before, 
and moved toward the center of the stage fac- 
ing the grave, with his back to the audience. 



78 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

When lie turned an expression of mingled grief 
and horror was visible on his face, and he spoke 
the line, i l The fair Ophelia, ' ' with greater feel- 
ing than I had ever before heard him give to 
it ; then clasping his head between his hands he 
staggered to me and threw himself upon my 
breast. This instant dropping of one's indi- 
viduality and investing oneself with the charac- 
ter being portrayed is another quality closely 
allied with the actor's genius. I have seen 
Edwin Booth, Mary Anderson, and Adelaide 
Neilson when talking and laughing with other 
persons in the wings instantly take up their 
cues and walk upon the stage, leaving their 
individuality behind them like a cast-off gar- 
ment. 

Mr. Booth spoke the soliloquies of Hamlet 
seated in a chair, not far removed from the 
footlights, in order that the varying expres- 
sions of his wonderful face might be better 
seen. While he was not slow in his delivery, 
he was deliberate and distinct, so that one 
could follow the workings of his mind and trace 
each thought to its conclusion. His Hamlet 
was, undoubtedly, the greatest of his own age 
or of any other, for history does not record an 
actor who possessed, as he did, so many inher- 
ent qualities for the interpretation of the char- 
acter. Of all the actors that I have ever seen 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 79 

in the part, — and I have seen many, — none 
equaled him. Edwin Booth was always effec- 
tive in the reading of soliloquies, than which 
there is nothing more difficult for an actor. In 
the soliloquies of Iago the scheming deviltry 
of Iago's mind was apparent as he gave utter- 
ance to each thought. 

Booth's Theater was in existence from 1869 
to 1883. After Mr. Booth was compelled, 
through his losses, to go into bankruptcy, the 
theater from time to time was leased by differ- 
ent managers, who conducted it with varying 
success or failure. The last lessee was John 
Stetson. I had played there on the opening 
night and I was business manager for Mr. 
Stetson when it closed with Madame Modjeska 
as Juliet in "Romeo and Juliet," April 30, 
1883. Andrew Boyd had been caretaker of the 
theater and ticket- taker during its existence; 
he took in the first and last ticket presented 
for admittance at the main entrance. 

The invasion of "West Twenty-third Street 
by the retail business was the forerunner of 
the doom of Booth's Theater, and in the course 
of time it was sold and converted into stores. 

The tours of Booth and Barrett made a for- 
tune for Edwin Booth, so he bought a large 
double house on Gramercy Park and converted 
it into a club house, which was founded in 1888, 



80 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

and named the Players. Mr. Booth desired 
that the club should be devoted to social inter- 
course between representative members of the 
dramatic profession and the kindred profes- 
sions of literature, painting, sculpture, and 
music, and the patrons of the arts. He re- 
quested the exclusion 6tf dramatic critics from 
membership of the club, in order to avoid pos- 
sible bitterness and controversies where all 
should be good-fellowship and harmony. He 
was wise in this, for critics are sometimes 
severe and actors are usually sensitive. But 
this rule excluded from the club one of Mr. 
Booth's dearest friends, Mr. William Winter, 
then the dramatic critic of the New York Tri- 
bune. 

On "Founders' Night," — New Year's Eve, 
— only members of the club are admitted to the 
house, and it is the custom on the stroke of 
twelve for the president of the club to drink 
first from the large loving-cup filled with wine, 
which is then passed to the members, who 
drink in turn. On one of these occasions when 
I was present General Horace Porter in his 
speech used the following appropriate simile in 
referring to Mr. Booth's retiring disposition 
and modesty: 

"Edwin Booth is like the silent, untiring 
worker on some magnificent tapestry; the 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 81 

beauty of his artistic work is seen upon the 
surface, but the worker is behind, patiently 
laboring unseen.' ' 

Mr. Booth reserved the upper floor of the 
club house for his living apartment. He 
died there June 7, 1893, when he was between 
fifty-nine and sixty. The room in which he 
died is held sacred and preserved as he left it, 
and on the anniversary of his death a large 
wreath is placed on the bed he died in. In the 
club house, in glass cases, are preserved and 
treasured the costumes he wore in his differ- 
ent characters, and the Players Club remains 
to-day a monument to his generosity. 

Edwin Booth's last appearance on the stage 
was in Brooklyn, April 4, 1891, as Hamlet. He 
undoubtedly inherited his genius from his 
father, though it usually skips one or more gen- 
erations. In all the arts the atavism of genius 
is observable. 



CHAPTEE V 

In 1870 and 1871 The Varieties Club of New 
Orleans was building on Canal Street in that 
city a theater that was to be called The Varie- 
ties Theater. One of the members of the club 
leased the theater and engaged Lawrence Bar- 
rett as manager, with the understanding that 
Mr. Barrett was to play his usual star engage- 
ments throughout the country, including a four 
or six weeks' engagement in New Orleans at The 
Varieties Theater. Mr. Barrett, who at that 
time was supporting Edwin Booth at Booth's 
Theater in New York, organized a large com- 
pany of capable persons, most of whom were 
New York favorites, and assigned two repre- 
sentatives to each of the important lines of 
business. I was eager to sever my connection 
with Booth's Theater, so I gladly accepted Mr. 
Barrett's offer to become a member of the 
company he was forming. 

As The Varieties Theater was not to open 
until the following December, I, — with John 
Howson and George Holland, Jr., who had 
also been engaged by Mr. Barrett, — secured a 
short engagement with the Mark Smith Comedy 

82 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 83 

Company. This company was managed by and 
had the pecuniary support of Hart Jackson, 
who made the version of "The Two Orphans" 
that had a long run at the Union Square 
Theater, in New York. The repertoire of the 
Mark Smith Comedy Company consisted of 
"The School for Scandal," "London Assur- 
ance," "Heir at Law," "The Old English 
Gentleman," "Nine Points of the Law," and 
"The Poor Gentleman." 

After having appeared in a number of 
smaller cities with only moderate success we 
were to open at McVickar's Theater in Chicago 
for a four weeks' engagement, but the week 
before we were due in Chicago the great fire 
of October 8-10, 1871, destroyed a large part of 
the city, including McVickar's Theater. Our 
company was playing in Indianapolis at the 
time. Some place in which to appear the fol- 
lowing week had to be secured hurriedly in 
order to keep the company together until the 
route could be re-arranged. As our most suc- 
cessful engagement had been in Louisville, only 
a short time before, an effort was made to se- 
cure an immediate return engagement there. 
But this could not be done, as another com- 
pany was booked to appear, so our manager 
did what he thought to be the next best thing. 
He decided that we should play for the first 



84 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

four nights of the following week in New Al- 
bany, a small town in Indiana, just across the 
river from Louisville. He thought that many 
people from Louisville would cross the bridge 
to see our performances in New Albany, but 
only a very few did. 

The opera house was over the town market, 
the odor from which permeated the auditorium, 
stage, and dressing-rooms. There were only 
two dressing-rooms, so all the ladies dressed in 
one and all the gentlemen, including the star, 
in the other. One may form some idea of the 
theater when I say that the proscenium open- 
ing was only about twenty feet wide and about 
twelve feet high. Our financial success here 
was small, as we played the "Heir at Law" to 
less than fifty people at each performance. 
This, like most of the old comedies, has an 
epilogue, or "tag," to be addressed to the audi- 
ence by the different characters after the end- 
ing of the play. Dr. Pangloss has a few lines 
to speak, ending with "For I'm an LL.D. and 
an A double S." On the last night of our 
stay the darkey that attended to the old-fash- 
ioned drop curtain, — that rolled up from the 
bottom on a long barrel, — had fallen asleep. 
The prompter shook him to awaken him, say- 
ing, "Be ready." The old darkey, misunder- 
standing, started to lower the curtain before 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 85 

Mr. Smith had finished speaking Dr. Pangloss' 
tag lines. When the curtain was almost down 
Mr. Smith threw himself npon the stage and 
shouted to the audience, "I'm an LL.D. and an 
A double S." And as the curtain touched the 
stage he rolled over and added, "For playing 
over a meat market in New Albany I am surely 
an A double S." 

Shortly after this the company closed and 
returned to New York, and John Hows on, 
George Holland, and I went on to New Orleans 
to await the commencement of our engagement 
there. 

Mark Smith claimed that the actor's art was 
above all others. He would often express his 
pride in being an actor. He endeavored at all 
times to be dignified, but he was sometimes a 
trifle pompous. I was standing in front of 
the old Louisville Hotel one day with him and 
a friend of his when a gentleman approached 
and was introduced to us. 

"Oh, Mark Smith! I'm delighted to meet 
you, sir. I had the pleasure of seeing your 
troupe last night at the theater." 

Mr. Smith at once assumed his most digni- 
fied manner and said: "Not my troupe, sir, 
but my company. We are not itinerant acro- 
bats nor performing monkeys." 

The gentleman raised his hat and said: "I 



86 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

beg your pardon, sir, and I thank you. I shall 
observe the distinction in future." 

We heard later that this same gentleman 
had killed one man and wounded another on the 
"field of honor. " Fortunately the episode 
tenninated in our adjourning to the bar of the 
hotel and imbibing several mint juleps, that 
most delicious but insidious concoction of the 
South. 

The Varieties Theater in New Orleans opened 
Monday evening, December 4, 1871. The 
opening address, written especially for the oc- 
casion by E. C. Hancock, Esq., was delivered 
by Lawrence Barrett, and the play of the even- 
ing, presented for the first time in New Or- 
leans, was Alberry's four-act comedy entitled 
"Coquettes." In the cast were George Clarke, 
Dominic Murray, Stuart Eobson, T. J. Hind, 
Frank Murdock, Augustus Pitou, George Hol- 
land, Jr., Charles Bradley, Augusta Dargon, 
Georgie Eeynolds, Marie Gordon, and lone 
Burke. More than one half of the company did 
not appear on that occasion. The people in 
the cast, with one exception, were well received, 
and their individual performances were favor- 
ably commented on, with the exception of 
Stuart Eobson 's. His peculiar voice was 
strange to the audience and his comedy meth- 
ods new to them. The only time he made 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 87 

the people laugh was when he spoke a few lines 
of sentiment in his part. But in less than a 
month, after he had played a number of comedy- 
parts, including Captain Crosstree in the bur- 
lesque of "Black-eyed Susan," the public pro- 
nounced him the funniest comedian that had 
ever appeared in New Orleans. He became a 
great favorite, and his benefit toward the end 
of the season was the largest of any member 
of the company. He said to me: "IVe had 
the same experience in other cities. The peo- 
ple have to get accustomed to my voice before 
they think me funny.' ' 

A number of seats, railed off just behind the 
musicians, were reserved for the members of 
The Varieties Club. Between the acts they 
could retire to their club rooms, which were in 
the basement, and the prompter rang a bell 
located in one of the club rooms, notifying the 
members that the play or one of the acts was 
about to begin. The members, in obedience to 
a rule of the club, were invariably in their seats 
before the curtain went up. There were never 
any late stragglers to disturb the players or 
the audience. The expenses of this theater 
were probably larger than those of any other 
theater in the country at that time, and though 
the patronage was good, the weekly losses con- 
tinued to accumulate. At the end of a few 



88 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

months the manager notified Mr. Barrett that 
he had no more money to lose and that he would 
have to retire. Then Mr. Barrett came to New 
Orleans at once and assumed the management 
himself. He cut down expenses by curtailing 
the company, giving two weeks' notice to each 
member as he had a legal right to do, and he 
continued the season without further loss and 
without reducing the salaries of those members 
of the company that he retained. The elimina- 
tion of his own salary of $250 a week was a 
big item in itself. 

At the termination of the regular season 
George Ryer engaged some of the members of 
the company, at reduced salaries, for a short 
summer season at the old St. Charles Theater, 
in New Orleans. "The Octoroon," by Dion 
Boucicault, was selected for the opening play. 
Many people had the impression that the play 
favored Republican politics and ridiculed the 
South and its institutions, so the manager, in 
his preliminary notices, endeavored to disabuse 
the public's mind of this error. He stated that 
politics was not alluded to by any of the char- 
acters, and that the play was a domestic drama 
of Southern life, as it existed before the war. 
Notwithstanding these announcements, it was 
feared that there would be a demonstration of 
disapproval on the opening night. Would a 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 89 

Southern audience accept a play with an octo- 
roon as its heroine? The play had met with 
great success in the North, which fact, in it- 
self, caused the New Orleans public to be sus- 
picious of it. The animosities created by the 
war were still strong; the people had not yet 
forgotten the occupation of their city by Gen. 
Ben Butler and his Northern troops. 

The following story of the play is necessary 
for those unacquainted with it: 

Judge Peyton, the head of a Southern family, 
living on the Terrebourne Plantation in Louisi- 
ana, is supposed to have died before the ac- 
tion of the play begins. He leaves a widow, a 
son, — George Peyton, — and his natural daugh- 
ter Zoe, by a quadroon slave. Zoe has been 
educated and treated with respect by the fam- 
ily. Jacob McClusky, the overseer of the 
plantation, falls in love with her, but she de- 
tests him. To possess her he forecloses mort- 
gages he holds against the estate and ruins the 
family. He has found that Zoe's free papers 
were made out while a judgment for debt stood 
recorded against the estate, which invalidates 
Zoe's freedom. Therefore she is sold with the 
other slaves and bought by McClusky for 
$25,000. Before the sale, however, a letter was 
expected by Mrs. Peyton from England, with 
a large amount of money, the use of which 



90 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

would relieve the estate and prevent its sale. 
McClusky, knowing this, waylays the negro 
boy, Paul, who has the mail bag, and kills him 
while he is sitting on a rock before a camera. 
An Indian companion of the boy has set the 
camera and run away in fear, while the pic- 
ture is being taken. It is at this moment that 
McClusky commits the deed which shows on the 
plate and convicts him. He escapes to the 
cane-brake and is tracked by the Indian, who 
kills him. The play ends happily, Zoe being 
bought by George Peyton and freed. 

In the slave market scene when Zoe (played 
by Isabel Freeman) was on the block, and I, 
as McClusky, after outbidding George Peyton 
(played by George Clarke), took hold of her 
roughly, saying, "Come here, you belong to 
me," at least a dozen people in different parts 
of the house cried out : ' ' Shoot him, George ! ' ' 
"Km him!" 

That clever dramatist, Dion Boucicault, had 
so developed his story and had so dramatically 
constructed this particular scene that, notwith- 
standing racial prejudices, a Southern audience 
sympathized with the slave girl who had negro 
blood in her veins. 

For the season of 1872-73 John A. Stevens 
engaged me as leading man and stage manager 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 91 

of his stock company, with headquarters at 
Coates' Opera House, Kansas City. Stevens 
had a circuit comprising Kansas City, Leaven- 
worth, St. Joseph, and Omaha. He played 
stars when he could get them, and when he 
could not he constituted himself a star, play- 
ing numerous parts, in tragedy and comedy, 
— it mattered not to Stevens which so long as it 
was a star role. During the season he an- 
nounced that he had secured Edwin Forrest 
to play six performances in Kansas City and 
two in each of the other towns. 

George Clarke was Mr. Forrest's leading 
man at that time, and he came in advance to 
rehearse the company in six plays. A week 
later Mr. Forrest arrived and was driven to 
the Coates House, which was on top of a hill, 
with no other building in sight except the 
Opera House diagonally opposite. Mr. Coates 
owned all the property in that section and had 
built the hotel and Opera House there, expect- 
ing that the city as it grew would advance up 
the hill. Mr. Forrest was suffering with gout 
and could not attend any of the rehearsals. I 
sent my card to him and was invited to his 
room. He was looking out of the window as 
I entered, and he limped toward me and gave 
me his hand. It was the first time in six years 
that we had met. 



92 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

After we were seated, he said, "You saw me 
looking out of the window as you came in?" 

"Yes, sir," I replied. 

"Why, do you suppose?" 

"I can't say, sir." 

"This is Kansas City, is it not?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Well, I've been looking for the city; I can't 
see it out of any of my windows. Is that the 
theater opposite?" 

"It is." 

"Are you a member of the company?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Are there any people in this place who go 
to the theater?" 

"Every seat in the house is sold for every 
one of your performances, sir." 

He smiled and said, "Well, I suppose that 
should be some consolation to an actor, even 
if he is suffering with the gout." 

The second week we played in Leavenworth, 
— on Monday and Tuesday nights, — and the 
theater there was an old hall with one balcony. 
In the center of the stage was a large post sup- 
porting the roof. On entering from the center, 
one had to dodge this post in going down the 
stage to the right or left, and the post always 
"held the center," to the envy of some of the 
actors. When Mr. Forrest, limping, made his 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 93 

entrance through the center door he saw the 
post, paused, eyed it for a moment, then 
hobbled toward the footlights to acknowledge 
his reception. All through his first soliloquy 
of Hamlet he leaned against the post rest- 
ing his gouty foot, and he did the same thing 
while he was speaking the rest of Hamlet's 
soliloquies. After the performance he said to 
me: "I wish we could take that post along 
with us to Omaha and St. Joseph. I found it 
very comforting. ' ' 

After Mr. Forrest left us some of our regu- 
lar patrons said that they liked Stevens in 
"Bichelieu" and " Hamlet" better than they 
liked him. They had seen a great deal of 
Stevens, and only a little of Mr. Forrest, — and 
then at advanced prices; besides, the theater- 
goers of Kansas City and those other towns 
were not esthetic at that time. However, it is 
surprising how blind the public and the critics 
can be to the shortcomings of actors whom 
they see frequently, or with whom they are on 
friendly terms. 

Only a few years before he died Mr. Forrest 
gave the greatest of all his performances as 
King Lear. He had perfected his art, and had 
grown more psychical and less physical. As 
he subdued the physical he became more emo- 
tionally convincing; but his popularity had 



94 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

waned, and his performances at the Fourteenth 
Street Theater in New York were sparsely at- 
tended. He was acknowledged to be the fore- 
most American tragedian nntil Edwin Booth, 
with his genius and better art, won his way 
to popularity and took from him that proud 
distinction. 

During that same season our company went 
to Fort Scott, to play a week, with John A. 
Stevens as the star. The only five swords in 
the company were mine, and they were common 
property when they were needed by my asso- 
ciates, but I always carried them and jealously 
guarded them against loss. Ours was the first 
dramatic company that had ever appeared in 
Fort Scott, and there was a crowd in front of 
the hotel when we reached it in the large 'bus 
that had met us at the station. As we alighted 
from the 'bus one of the crowd cried out, point- 
ing to me, "There's the fellow that swallows 
the swords." They had evidently had a cir- 
cus there with its side shows. 

That same season Maggie Mitchell, sup- 
ported by our company, inaugurated Tootle's 
Opera House in St. Joseph, Missouri, — at that 
time the handsomest and most costly theater 
in the West. 

After I had closed my season with John A. 
Stevens' Company, Barney Macauley engaged 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 95 

me for a late spring and early summer season 
at Wood's Theater in Cincinnati, where I, ap- 
pearing as the "fiery Tybalt' ' in "Borneo and 
Juliet," first met and played with Mary An- 
derson. J. Newton Gotthold, a well-known 
leading man of the time, supported her as 
Borneo, and Barney Macauley was the Mercutio. 
Mary Anderson made her first appearance 
on the stage in Louisville, Ky., November 25, 
1875, as Juliet, in ' i Borneo and Juliet, ' ' and she 
flashed into stardom without having passed 
through the experience of playing minor parts. 
She made her debut equipped with a small 
repertoire of star roles, to which she later made 
many additions. At that time she had the 
freshness of youth and a most charming per- 
sonality; and she was a born actress. Her 
arms, however, were a trifle long, and her ges- 
tures, while effective in response to the emo- 
tions that swayed her, were not particularly 
graceful. But her voice was strong, flexible, 
and pleasing, and her reading was well-modu- 
lated, intelligent, and comprehensive. She had 
that innate quality that enabled her to feel and 
express the higher emotions; her acting was 
impulsive, and varied in its effectiveness. 
Sometimes she could thrill her hearers, but she 
lacked those subtleties of the actor's art, which, 
had she possessed them, would have made it 



96 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

possible for her to thrill them at all times. 
But even up to the day when she retired from 
the stage to marry, she had not fully mastered 
the art of acting. 

I witnessed her first appearance in London, 
under the management of Henry Abbey, at the 
Lyceum Theater. The play was "Ingomar." 
"Handsome" Jack Barnes played the title role 
and Mary Anderson played Parthenia. The 
advertisements in the newspapers were judi- 
ciously modest, simply announcing: 

First Appearance in London of the American 
Actress — 

MAEY ANDEESON 

In the Five Act Play of 

INGOMAR 

(The Barbarian) 

Ingomar Jack Barnes 

Parthenia Miss Anderson 

The line for the gallery, as was the custom 
on first nights at the Lyceum, had been formed 
on the street since daylight. When the over- 
ture started the house was filled in every part, 
and from my seat in the balcony I could see the 
mass of people in the gallery, mostly men, 
many of them in their shirt sleeves, while in 




MARY ANDERSON 



Pacing page 97 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 97 

the stalls below me and in the balcony the men 
and women were in fnll evening dress. 

When Miss Anderson made her entrance in 
the first act she was given a most cordial and 
prolonged reception. Indeed, her stately ap- 
pearance alone justified it, and as she came 
down the stage smiling and bowing she was ap- 
parently not a bit nervous. As the act pro- 
ceeded her subdued acting and the pitch of her 
voice, which could not have reached all parts 
of the house, puzzled me. It was not the work 
of the Mary Anderson that I had formerly 
known. It was of the "drawing-room school 
of acting," then in vogue in London. Here 
was an American actress with too much met- 
tle, it seemed, and she must be curbed, as she 
evidently was, by some fool stage manager who 
had rehearsed her in the play. This silly 
school of acting was copied by us and prevailed 
with us for a while, but fortunately it was 
short-lived both here and in England. 

At the end of the first act the applause was 
trifling. The people within my hearing re- 
marked: "A most charming personality," 
1 ' How well she wears her Grecian gown, " " She 
looks as if she had just stepped from a canvas 
of Alma Tadema." But not a word was said 
about her acting. 

During the entr'acte I went out into the lobbv 



98 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

for a smoke, and Henry Abbey asked me, 
"How is it going, Ghis?" 

"Very badly, in my opinion,' ' I replied. 
"What's the matter with her? Why doesn't 
she let herself out?" 

He answered, laughing: "That's just what 
we don 't want her to do. She has been coached 
in the style of acting they want in London and 
the only kind they'll stand for." 

My suspicions were confirmed, but he inter- 
rupted my objections with: "Oh, shut up, 
Gus. Come along and have a drink," and we 
did. 

The curtain was just about to go up on the 
second act when I reached my seat. During 
the early part of the act Miss Anderson con- 
tinued to speak in the same conversational key, 
emotionless as some beautiful statue, and she 
had not yet affected or won her audience. 

"If she keeps this up, she will surely be a 
failure," I fumed. "Why doesn't she let her- 
self out? If she would only act as she did in 
Cincinnati!" 

While these thoughts were passing through 
my mind something happened. A coster- 
monger, in his shirt sleeves, sitting in the front 
row of the gallery, cried out, "A little louder, 
Mary, a little louder!" The audience was 
startled. There was a moment of silence, and 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 99 

then came a big outburst of laughter in which 
Miss Anderson joined. She always had a keen 
sense of humor, and was not averse to an oc- 
casional bit of quiet, innocent guying. As she 
turned and walked up the stage her shoulders 
were shaking with laughter. Jack Barnes 
joined her and she talked earnestly to him un- 
til the audience quieted. As she turned and 
came down the stage there was an expression 
of determination on her face that seemed to 
me to say: "I'm going to be as I was. I'm 
going to act as I did in America!" 

She was saved. She started her scene with 
Ingomar a little in advance of where the dia- 
logue had been interrupted, and she let out her 
beautiful voice so that her every word was 
heard in every part of the house. She forgot 
the audience. Throwing off the yoke of re- 
straint that had been put upon her, she was 
Parthenia, the Greek-maiden, hostage of the 
barbarian that she would tame. She gave full 
vent to her emotions. Her audience was 
moved; she was acting; and after the curtain 
was down she was called before it again and 
again. At the end of the next act, where, after 
subduing Ingomar, she takes his spear and 
shield and, with her arm stretched out, points 
toward Massilia, she was superb. The ap- 
plause started as the curtain was descending 



100 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

and swelled into a tumult. "Our Mary" had 
triumphed and I wanted to hug that coster- 
monger in the gallery! This audience of Lon- 
doners after all was human. Nationality mat- 
ters naught; all humanity is catholic and re- 
sponsive when appealed to hy genius, and Mary 
Anderson was a genius. Had she remained on 
the stage, she would surely have perfected her 
art; and she would be to-day our greatest 
actress. 



CHAPTER VI 

My observation has convinced me that an actor 
or actress does not make a pronounced hit nntil 
the opportunity comes to him or her to play an 
important part, and a part peculiarly suited to 
his or her personality. This opportunity 
rarely comes until after a person has had years 
of experience, for experience alone will give to 
him perfect control of himself on the stage and 
that knowledge of the art of acting that will 
enable him to express himself effectively. And 
an actor can give the best that is in him to the 
interpretation of only such characters as he is 
physically and psychically fitted to present. 
However, a personality that is suited to some 
particular part, without art and self-control, 
means nothing; but when fine personality, self- 
control, and knowledge of the art of acting are 
combined in one person then that person is in- 
deed an actor. 

Mr. Charles Frohman once made a revival of 
Sardou's ' 'Diplomacy' ' at the Empire Theater, 
New York, with his most capable stock com- 
pany. William Faversham was the leading 

man, and he claimed the part of Henri Beau- 

101 



102 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

clere, which formerly had been played by Les- 
ter Wallack. Mr. Frohman was reluctantly 
compelled to accede to Mr. Faversham's claim, 
and he cast Charles Eichmond for the part of 
Capt. Julien Beanclerc, which formerly had 
been played by Harry Montague, who was at 
one time the leading juvenile man of Wallack 's 
stock company. Faversham and Eichmond 
were both good actors, but in this instance they 
were not rightly cast, and neither of them was 
effective in his performance. Had the parts 
been reversed the play would have had a better 
interpretation. No one realized this fact more 
than Mr. Frohman, but, hampered by the terms 
of Faversham's contract, which gave him a 
choice of leading parts, he was powerless. 

I had a similar experience with my traveling 
stock company, for which I engaged some of 
the most prominent and capable actors and ac- 
tresses of the time. In the company were Nel- 
son Wheatcroft, William Faversham, W. H. 
Thompson, George Backus, Frederick Perry, 
George M. Leslie, P. W. Shannon, Gus Frankel, 
W. Alfred Palmer, Minnie Seligman, Ida Ver- 
non, Adelaide Stanhope, Jane Stuart, Vida 
Croley, Frances Drake, and Annette Leland. 
After organizing my company I secured from 
Clyde Fitch "A Modern Match" and from 
Martha Morton "Geoffrey Middleton, Gentle- 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 103 

man." I would have fared better had I first 
obtained the plays and then selected people of 
even less prominence to cast them. Nearly all 
my contracts called for certain lines of busi- 
ness, and I was obliged to cast the plays ac- 
cordingly, irrespective of personalities. The 
company played thirty-four weeks, and ap- 
peared in all the large cities; but I lost con- 
siderable money, and, having learned my lesson, 
at the end of the season I abandoned the idea 
of a stock company at high prices. All man- 
agers have done the same, and I doubt whether 
the stock company at high prices can ever be 
profitably revived. First get the play ; it is the 
surer and safer way. There are always suit- 
able actors to be found for the proper interpre- 
tation of any play, if the manager be experi- 
enced and careful in his selections. 

It has been claimed that no actress can truly 
portray maternal love unless she has been a 
mother, but this is a mistaken idea. If an ex- 
perienced actress can imagine a mother's love, 
and if she have the requisite emotional traits, 
she will strike the human chords true in a scene 
with a child, for all women have the mother in- 
stinct. Indeed, some of the most affecting in- 
terpretations of motherly love have been those 
presented by childless actresses. 

Surely Maude Adams could effectively ex- 



104 MASTERS- OF THE SHOW 

press the joys and sorrows of a mother's heart. 
How great this charming little actress would 
be, if nature, when endowing her with tem- 
perament, and the power to feel and to affect 
others, also had given her the physical attri- 
butes necessary for the portrayal of great roles. 
Her Juliet, in the earlier acts of the play, was 
the most girlish and ingenuous that I ever saw. 
In the tragedy of the later acts she failed, not 
because she did not fully realize the conflict 
raging in Juliet's soul, but because she was 
unable to give physical expression to it, and 
the potion scene, with its horrors of mental 
visions, demanded more force than she pos- 
sessed. However, in all her roles, Maude 
Adams has shown her mentality ; she never fails 
to grasp and to express the most subtle psy- 
chology of a character. Indeed, this actress 
possesses a quality that is very rare on the 
stage. I can recall only one other actress who 
had it, — Maggie Mitchell, as Fanchon, dancing 
in the moonlight with her imaginary partner. 
This quality is not ingenuousness, not abandon, 
not mischievousness ; it is all these and some- 
thing more. I call it impishness. 

Minnie Seligman was another actress that 
lacked the physical power to fulfil the promise 
her acting once gave. Her art was not perfect, 
but she possessed temperament, and also 




Facing page 104 



MAGGIE MITCHELL 
As Fanchon 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 105 

intensity in expressing emotions. Unfor- 
tunately, she had a face and figure more suit- 
able to comedy and soubrette parts than to 
emotional ones. 

The late Stuart Kobson, who was a man of 
culture and a student of Shakespeare, once said 
to me: "My professional career has been a 
disappointment. I have clearly defined in my 
mind my conception of Hamlet and of Shylock. 
I have the soul of a tragedian with the high 
squeaky voice of a low comedian. When in 
some part I have had an emotional speech to 
deliver I have felt the meaning of the lines and 
tears have come into my eyes, but when I spoke 
the audience laughed.' ' 

Many comedians, after attaining prominence, 
crave this higher sphere of serious acting. 
They grow tired of making people laugh; they 
want to make them cry. Like poor Stuart 
Eobson, they themselves may be able to feel, 
but they fail to transmit their impressions to 
their hearers. 

An historical anecdote has been told of 
Joseph Grimaldi, the noted English pan- 
tomimist and clown, who from 1806 to 1825 kept 
all London laughing at his antics. At one time 
he suffered from some nervous ailment that 
made him morose and taciturn, and his friends 
advised him to consult a renowned doctor of 



106 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

the day. The doctor told him to seek amuse- 
ments, to go and see G-rimaldi at least twice 
a week, whereupon he looked at the doctor, with 
a sad smile, and said, "Alas, I am Grimaldi. ,, 

I have heard it said that no actress can play 
Juliet effectively until she is thirty and has had 
eight or ten years' experience on the stage. 
She may need those years of experience for the 
tragic scenes, but will she look the girl of the 
earlier scenes? At thirty an actress is no 
longer an ingenue; in young girls' parts her 
ingenuousness is usually forced and unnatural. 

Adelaide Neilson was the only actress I ever 
saw as Juliet who was true and potent in all 
her scenes. She was a beautiful brunette, with 
wonderfully expressive eyes and a youthful 
figure; and she was a genius; her art was al- 
most perfect. She was only seventeen years 
old when she first played Juliet. I saw her 
debut in this country in 1872 at Booth's 
Theater, which was then under the manage- 
ment of Jarrett and Palmer. She was then 
twenty-four years old. She came to us with a 
reputation earned in London and the Provinces, 
at a time when she was the acknowledged queen 
of the English stage. On her opening night as 
Juliet she fascinated the audience by her 
beauty and personality the moment she ap- 
peared upon the stage, and during her perform- 




Facing page 106 



ADELAIDE NEILSON 
As Juliet 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 107 

ance she stirred her hearers to fervor border- 
ing on frenzied enthusiasm. I once played 
Oliver with her in "As You Like It." 
While I was telling her how Orlando had been 
slain by a lion the attention of the audience 
was riveted upon her. They merely heard the 
words I spoke, while she was conveying to them 
the effect of my words by the tremors of her 
body, the despair of her clinched hands, the 
agonized expression of her face and of her tear- 
ful eyes. This transmitting of effect without 
the aid of words was a stroke of genius, ex- 
pressed by the supreme art of acting. Ade- 
laide Neilson made four visits to this country, 
although she died at Paris, France, August 15, 
1880, at the early age of thirty-two. 

It is not difficult for actors and actresses to 
make an audience understand what they feel, 
or are supposed to feel, if they express their 
feelings in words; but to make an audience 
realize how much they are affected by what is 
spoken by others is consummate art. George 
Arliss in his performance of "Disraeli" 
achieves this effect of pantomime in the last 
act when a telegram is delivered to him. His 
audience can read his every thought; it sym- 
pathizes with him in his agony when in the 
midst of his great triumph he holds unopened 



108 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

in his hand the telegram that he fears will in- 
form him of the death of his beloved wife. At 
this moment George Arliss reaches the acme of 
the actor's art. The dramatist, Lonis N. 
Parker, was inspired when he bronght the great 
statesman's wife npon the scene from the op- 
posite side of the stage, and had her place her 
hand on her husband's shonlder ; to have her do 
so was just what the audience at that moment 
craved, and the expression of George Arliss' 
face as he turned and saw his wife conveyed 
more than words could express. 

The play of "Disraeli," produced by Liebler 
& Co., was unusually well interpreted by a care- 
fully selected cast, and was admirably pre- 
sented. The stage management was excellent 
and the correctness of detail was especially 
noticeable. Toward the end of the last act the 
bringing on and lining up of the court lackies 
aided greatly the appeal made to the imagina- 
tion of the audience, which could feel the pres- 
ence of the queen in the adjoining room. The 
lining up of these lackies was better stage art 
and more effective than would have been the 
bringing in of the queen upon the scene. 

The lack of attention on the part of some 
actors to what others are saying too often de- 
stroys the value of an important scene. How 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 109 

can we expect an audience to be impressed and 
moved if the people on the stage fail to show 
interest in what is transpiring? 

I have said that in the old stock company 
days one conld count the soldiers of the armies 
of Macbeth and Eichard III. I saw Henry 
Irving 's production of "Macbeth" in London, 
and when the army of Macbeth appeared it 
came on in groups, without order or discipline, 
a horde of semibarbarian warriors, with cross- 
gartered leggings, hide-covered shields, battle- 
axes and cross-bows, talking and gesticulating. 
They kept crossing the stage and disappearing 
from sight. At the end of the dialogue between 
Macbeth and his officers the straggling army 
was still crossing, and when the scene changed 
there seemed to be thousands of warriors yet 
to come; the audience never saw them all. 
For the following scene when MacDuff 's army 
appeared the same effect was produced. In the 
battle scene the fighting was not all in sight 
of the audience; it seemed to be raging as 
fiercely off the stage in the distance. From 
every angle of sight the audience could see 
men fighting off the stage as well as on it. 
The distant clash of arms, the cries and cheers, 
and the rushing on and off the scene of fight- 
ing groups gave the illusion of a great battle 
in which thousands were engaged. I was 



110 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

greatly impressed. This appeal to the im- 
agination was something new to me in stage 
management. I have also seen it used most 
effectively by David Belasco in some of his pro- 
ductions. Indeed, there is always value in 
this appeal to the imagination of an audience 
when it is properly made by the stage mana- 
ger. 

We have a number of capable stage man- 
agers to-day, but they are overworked. It is 
not unusual for a producer to engage one stage 
manager to rehearse all his productions, which 
may be as many as twenty in one season. Un- 
der such conditions, no stage manager has suf- 
ficient time to study and properly to rehearse a 
play, and it is impossible for him to do jus- 
tice to any one play when, as is sometimes the 
case, he is rehearsing three companies in dif- 
ferent plays the same day. 

A capable and experienced producer and 
stage manager like David Belasco, who stages 
at the most three or four productions in a sea- 
son, will usually obtain results satisfactory to 
the public and to himself, for the best work ac- 
complished is that which can be put aside, if 
only for a short interval, before it is taken up 
again. Ideas come to us unexpectedly at mo- 
ments when the mind is restful. Many a valu- 
able thought at such times has been jotted down 



MASTEKS OF THE SHOW 111 

on a scrap of paper and sometimes on a shirt 
cuff. 

I have seen a number of plays that I have 
considered worthy of success fail because they 
were improperly cast or too hurriedly pro- 
duced. In an emergency an effort is some- 
times made to rush through the preparation of 
a production and also the rehearsals, in order 
to supply the pressing needs of a theater. The 
likelihood that the play will succeed is thus 
minimized. It would be better and cheaper in 
the end to close the theater until the play is 
ready for presentation, for the public of to-day 
demands the best, which is to be had from only 
those producers who give intelligent thought 
and time to their productions. Although many 
managers spend money lavishly on their pro- 
ductions they do not always spend it judici- 
ously. The fortunate ones are those who pre- 
sent only a few plays each season, and who 
fully realize that the compensation to an au- 
dience is in what they offer behind the curtain 
as well as in the way a play is interpreted. 
The number of theaters now existing require 
many new productions each season, and they 
are made by many producers, who, by the way. 
are always optimistic. When a manager ac- 
cepts a play, and gets it ready for production, 
he is confident it will be a success. He may 



112 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

have had recent failures but that does not dim 
his optimism, nor deter him from trying again. 
This is fortunate, for out of six or more costly 
productions he often obtains but one or two 
successes. He has looked for more, but he is 
philosophical; he knows that with these suc- 
cesses he can pay for his failures, and perhaps 
make some money besides. Therefore a man- 
ager is as much a speculator as is the speculator 
in stocks and grain. 

Many unexpected things may happen on the 
opening night to decide the fate of a play, — the 
substitution of an understudy for an adver- 
tised star of reputation, as was the case with 
Mr. A. H. Woods, on the occasion of the first 
performance of "Gypsy Love" at the Globe 
Theater, New York; the ringing down of the 
curtain, through mistake, before the end of an 
act; a stormy night, followed by a week of 
bad weather; all these unlooked for handicaps 
are difficult to overcome quickly, if indeed they 
can ever be overcome. I attribute my loss on 
"The Power of the Press," during its run at 
Wallack's old theater, Broadway and Thir- 
teenth street, to a terrific thunder and lightning 
storm that occurred during the first perform- 
ance, which made the audience nervous and in- 
attentive. Then the patter of rain on the tin 
roof made it impossible for anyone to hear 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 113 

what was being said on the stage, and these 
conditions lasted for fully half an hour. ' ' The 
Power of the Press" played successfully 
throughout the country for five years, and but 
for that storm on the opening night I might 
have made money at Wallack's Theater. I had 
made a contract with Henry Miner for the ap- 
pearance of my stock company at the Fifth 
Avenue Theater for eight weeks, commencing 
early in October, and, if successful, for six ad- 
ditional weeks in the spring. But the theater 
was destroyed by fire; it could not be rebuilt 
in time for my date, and I was obliged to open 
in Minneapolis. When I did come to New York 
in the spring I had to play at the Union Square 
Theater, then under the management of J. M. 
Hill, and at a time when the theater was on the 
decline. 

During my first season at Booth's Theater as 
business manager for John Stetson, when he 
was the lessee, the profits were only a trifle over 
$4,000, and many good attractions had been 
played. As the expenses of the theater were 
very large, it was decided to take an additional 
financial risk, and to make productions the fol- 
lowing season. Charles E. Thorn had not re- 
newed with A. M. Palmer for the Union Square 
Theater, and Mr. Stetson engaged him at a 
salary of one hundred dollars a performance. 



114 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

The following plays were selected, — "The 
Corsican Brothers," Charles Fechter 's version 
of "Monte Cristo," "The Three Guardsmen, ' ' 
and "The Dead Heart.' ' The Fechter version 
of "Monte Cristo" was the property of Mr. 
Stetson, as it had come to him in the dramatic 
library of the Globe Theater, Boston, when he 
assumed its management. Charles Fechter 
had formerly been the stock star and stage 
manager of the Globe Theater ; by the terms of 
his contract all his plays produced at the Globe 
became the property of the theater, and he re- 
tained the right to play them when he appeared 
in other cities as a star. 

Henry Irving had successfully revived the 
"Corsican Brothers'' in London, so we decided 
to open the season with that play at Booth's 
Theater. The play was rehearsed for three 
weeks, and Charles R. Thorn attended all the 
rehearsals. The production was elaborate and 
costly, a feature being made of the ball room 
scene by the introduction of suitable speciality 
performers. On the opening night the theater 
was filled to its capacity, the audience was en- 
thusiastic, and the newspapers the following 
morning were loud in their praises of the per- 
formance and the production. During the day 
over ten thousand dollars were taken in at the 
box office for seats in advance. Success seemed 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 115 

assured. That Tuesday evening about six 
o'clock while I was at home at dinner a mes- 
senger boy came with a note from Mr. Stetson 
urging me to hasten to the theater. I went at 
once and found him in the lobby awaiting 
me. 

"Read that," he said, handing me a note. 

It was from Mrs. Charles R. Thorn inform- 
ing him that her husband was in bed sick, that 
he would not be able to appear that night, and 
of course we were compelled to close the 
theater. I went to Mr. Thorn's house and 
found him in bed. 

"How do you feel, Charlie V 9 I asked. 

He answered, "I'm a very sick man, Gus; 
I'll never leave this bed alive." 

He never did, and he died shortly afterward. 
The following day I secured J. Clinton Hall, 
who had played the part, and put him on that 
night. Frank Bangs, who was playing the part 
of M. Chateau-Renaud, studied Charles R. 
Thorn's part and appeared in it at the Satur- 
day matinee. When the public found that 
Charles R. Thorn would not reappear we had 
to return over six thousand dollars of the ad- 
vance sale. We kept the play on at Booth's 
Theater for six weeks and then sent it out on 
the road, but we succeeded in getting back only 
part of the cost of the production. These are 



116 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

only a few of the many chances that the pro- 
ducing manager takes, — chances that the pub- 
lic knows nothing about. 

After the "Corsican Brothers' ' we pre- 
sented ' i Monte Cristo, ' ' — having secured James 
O'Neil, who, although it was his first appear- 
ance in the title role, achieved an instantaneous 
success, and continued to play it for many 
years afterward. 

John Stetson had very little education. 
His boyhood days had been spent on the streets 
of Boston as a shoe black and newsboy, when 
he knew what it was to hustle for the necessaries 
of life. He was a man of much brain power, 
shrewd, observing, and honest in his business 
dealings, — so honest indeed that it was often 
said of him that his word was as good as his 
bond. However, he was ever on the alert and 
suspicious of others, and although he was ex- 
acting, he was always fair and appreciative of 
good service. Humorous stories and an occa- 
sional faux pas have been attributed to him, 
and the following stories he admitted to me 
were true. One time he and Mr. Isaac Rich 
were managers of the " Howard Athenaeum," 
a variety theater in Boston, and it was Mr. 
Stetson's custom to stand in the wings the first 
night of each week and watch the different per- 
formers. If an act was not favorably received 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 117 

by the audience, he would at once take it off 
the programme and substitute another. One 
opening night a team of old-time "song and 
dance artists' ' appeared, dressed in long black 
Prince Albert coats, white vests, black pan- 
taloons, and high silk hats. They began to sing 
"Where Are the Friends of Our Youth," and 
Mr. Stetson called to them, "Come off." They 
paid no attention to him. At the end of the 
song as they bowed themselves off the stage the 
audience indulged in catcalls, whistling, and 
shouts of derision, and they were about to go 
on the stage again when Mr. Stetson seized each 
of them by the collar. 

"Hold on; where are you going?" he de- 
manded. 

"Let go of us; we're going to take our en- 
core," was the reply. 

"Oh, no, you're not." 

"Let go of us. Who are you?" 

"I'm John Stetson." 

"Oh! we beg your pardon, Mr. Stetson; we 
didn't know you." 

The catcalls and whistling continued. 

"What was that song you were just sing- 
ing?" asked Mr. Stetson. 

" < Where Are the Friends of Our Youth?' " 

"The treasurer will pay your salary in the 
morning for this week, and you go and hunt 



118 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

for your friends. I'm d — n sure they're not 
here." 

At another time a European troupe was to 
appear, for the first time in this country, in 
tableaux, representing celebrated statues. Mr. 
Stetson watched the rehearsal as the different 
groups appeared, but made no comment. 
Later, when the tableau curtains were opened 
showing the " Three Graces," he stood up say- 
ing, "That's good." When the curtains closed 
he said to the manager of the troupe, "What 
do you call that last one?" 

"The three graces, Mr. Stetson." 

"Well, that's the best of all. They're great. 
You want to put on twelve of those graces." 

John Stetson's favorite musical instrument 
was the cornet, and he always insisted on hav- 
ing the best cornet player obtainable in the or- 
chestras of his theaters. One summer he heard 
an exceptionally good player in Washington 
and engaged him for his Globe Theater, Bos- 
ton. A few days before the opening of the sea- 
son, John C. Mullaly, his musical director, was 
rehearsing the orchestra in the overture and 
entr'actes music for the opening week when 
Mr. Stetson quietly stole into the auditorium 
and sat in one of the back seats to hear his 
cornet player. In the overture the cornet had 
considerable to do and Mr. Stetson was de- 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 119 

lighted, but in the first entr'acte selection the 
cornet had only a few bars. Mr. Stetson lis- 
tened for some time, when, becoming impatient, 
he strolled down the center aisle, shouting to 
the leader, "What's the matter with the cornet 
that he's not playing!" 

The leader answered, "The cornet has a long 
rest here, Mr. Stetson." 

"Best be d — n; I don't pay him for resting. 
I hired him to play." 

The managers of first-class theaters, outside 
of New York, have grown rich since stock com- 
panies at high prices were abandoned and new 
business methods were introduced. Formerly 
they had to carry the entire expense of com- 
pany and theater, but now they have only the 
expenses of the theater to protect. The pro- 
ducing managers send them their successes; 
their failures they send to the store house. 
New York managers owning theaters are 
obliged to risk the making of many productions 
each season for their own theaters, while the 
out-of-town manager, not having to take the 
risk of producing, is in a safer position. Even 
if during the season a few plays come to him 
that fail to please his patrons he finds that he 
makes a goodly profit anyway, for the ma- 
jority of his plays do please and draw large 
houses. 



120 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

It is not difficult now for any producer to 
make a pictorially correct production, if he is 
willing to pay the price, and most of them are. 
We have to-day better scenic artists than we 
ever had before. Some of them are at their 
best when painting exterior scenes, and others 
when painting interiors; it is for the producer 
to know their individual merits. The art of 
scene painting has advanced with other features 
of stage art, and it behooves the producer to 
employ only the best scenic artists, for while 
the building of scenery is costly, it is economy 
to have the best. 

One of these artists, given a play to read, will 
submit colored models of scenes, constructed 
half an inch to the foot, which will suggest what 
the scene is to be. These models are placed 
in a box with a miniature stage, electrically 
lighted, so that the producer can see the scene 
lighted up as the audience will see it. He can 
then send for some stage carpenter who builds 
scenery by contract, and who in less than an 
hour, after measuring the models, and some 
figuring, will give him his price for building the 
entire production. If the play to be produced 
is a costume play, an artist who is familiar with 
the costumes of the period of the play will 
read the play, and furnish colored plates of the 
costumes and of the furniture and properties 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 121 

required that will be absolutely accurate. The 
color scheme of the different scenes will be in- 
dicated by the plates, and there will be no clash- 
ing of colors to mar the general effect. Under 
these circumstances, it is an easy matter for 
a producer to be artistic and effective in his pro- 
ductions, but he must allow the necessary time 
required to accomplish this end. The public, — 
educated to recognize correctness by modern 
painters of merit whose pictures are invariably 
true in all these details, — is keen in detecting 
poorly painted scenery, and inappropriate cos- 
tumes and furniture. It is almost impossible to 
find an illustration in the widely read novels of 
to-day that is incorrect, and I have seen chil- 
dren's illustrated books of nursery rhymes and 
fairy stories in which the illustrations of the 
costumes of the characters represented have 
been perfect. 

In the early part of the eighteenth century, 
and before that, in England Shakespeare's and 
other plays were interpreted by actors who 
wore the cast-off court dresses of the time. 
Talma, the great French tragedian, Napoleon's 
favorite actor, in Voltaire's "Brutus" in 1787 
was the first to introduce correct costumes and 
congruity in representation on the French stage. 
The following story is told of him by Isaac 
Disraeli in his "Curiosities of Literature. ' ' 



122 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

At the dress rehearsal, after examining his 
Roman costume, Talma jokingly said: "I have 
no pockets. Where am I to carry my snuff 
box? I shall miss it." It had been his custom 
after a long scene to retire up the stage, and 
in full view of the audience take a comforting 
pinch of snuff. 

We can learn nothing from the past about 
stage art, for the productions of to-day have 
never been excelled. As for the actor *s art, it 
too has improved. We have many more intelli- 
gent, good actors than we had formerly, and 
we have some great ones, but genius is as rare 
on the stage to-day as it is in all the other arts. 
There are many artists, but there are no great 
geniuses that transcend their fellow workers. 
We are familiar with art ; its fundamental laws 
never change, and perhaps this is the reason 
why we are satisfied with what art, uninspired 
by genius, gives us. Genius is more apparent 
now in finance, science, and invention than it 
is in art; workers in these fields of useful en- 
deavor supply the requirements of our present 
civilization. We demand the practical and log- 
ical; the human mind has grown critical and 
cynical, imagination is being crowded out of 
our mental composition. If we are carried 
away by emotional impulses we are apt to ridi- 
cule our weakness later, or to be ridiculed by 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 123 

others. Man has gradually changed mentally 
as he has passed through the past few genera- 
tions, and he has now arrived at this practical 
age. After having had a surfeit of the practi- 
cal he may revert to the poetic; when he does 
genius will be more plentiful and will give 
greater expression to art. 



CHAPTER VII 

Fubbish's Fifth Avenue Company, under the 
management of Charles Furbish, was one of 
the first combinations to make an extended tour 
of the cities and larger towns. It was a small, 
capable company, with Furbish 's wife, a popu- 
lar actress of the day, as its leading woman. 
Furbish had arranged with Augustine Daly for 
the use of the title of his company, and for 
the presentation of such modern plays as had 
been produced successfully at Daly's Fifth 
Avenue Theater, New York. Furbish did not 
carry any scenery, but he did carry numerous 
special properties, such as framed paintings, 
bric-a-brac, portieres, and panels of different 
colored silk and satin, which he would attach 
to any stock drawing-room or chamber scene, 
and so transform its appearance that the au- 
dience would think it a new scene provided for 
that particular play. 

Furbish 's success was so great that in a few 
years all the stars had surrounded themselves 
with their own companies. Influenced by the 
rapidly increasing number of traveling com- 
panies, towns of from 20,000 to 50,000 popula- 

124 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 125 

tion began building theaters, which at first were 
nearly all put on the second floor of buildings 
that had stores beneath. 

To-day it is almost impossible not to find in 
large towns at least one well constructed theater 
occupying the ground floor of a large building. 
These theaters were called opera houses, to 
overcome a prejudice against theaters that still 
existed in many sections of the country. People 
would go to an opera house to see a perform- 
ance who would not admit, to themselves or to 
others, that they had been inside of a theater. 
Now, however, the term opera house, except 
when applied to a building in which opera is 
given, is gradually being discarded, and 
theaters are usually called theaters. Barnum's 
Museum, on the corner of Broadway and Ann 
Street, New York City, had halls on each floor 
in which were exhibited curiosities of all kinds ; 
just off these halls was an auditorium, with a 
parquet and two balconies, called the Lecture 
Boom, on the stage of which plays were given 
by a stock company. Boston had its Boston 
Museum, and Philadelphia its Wood's Museum, 
which were arranged and conducted in much 
the same way as Barnum's Museum. Church 
people would go to see a play in the Lecture 
Boom who would have thought it a sin to enter 
a theater. All the large cities had minstrel 



126 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

halls that these same people could attend with- 
out self-censure or public criticism, notwith- 
standing that many coarse and sometimes vul- 
gar jokes were uttered on the stage "by the 
negro minstrels. In some of the larger cities 
there were one or two variety theaters, gen- 
erally called "Theatres Comiques." 

These variety theaters were the beginning of 
the now great vaudeville business. It was at 
The Comique, in Philadelphia, that Joe Emmett 
attracted the attention of Charles Gaylor, a 
well-known manager and playwright of the time, 
who engaged him for a term of years, and wrote 
the play of "Fritz" for him. Joseph Emmett, 
Joseph Murphy, and Lotta were the first per- 
formers to graduate from the variety stage 
and become successful stars in the regular 
theaters. At that time a distinction was made 
and observed between "variety performers" 
and actors of the ' ' legitimate stage, ' ' and there 
was no intercourse whatever between them. 
The daily meeting-place of actors in Phila- 
delphia was the rotunda of the Continental 
Hotel; the variety performers never came 
there; they had some rendezvous of their own. 
The newspapers at that time observed this same 
distinction in their publication of stage events, 
while to-day such a distinction is unnecessary 
and would be unjust. Many prominent actors, 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 127 

and even stars, now play short engagements in 
the vaudeville theaters without injuring their 
reputations as actors, and some of our best 
and most popular stars are graduates of the 
vaudeville stage. Indeed, the vaudeville stage 
and the cheap price stock companies are good 
schools for beginners ; there is plenty of hard, 
exacting work to be done in each of them as 
in the days of the old stock company theaters, 
and this work is helpful to young aspirants. 

From the beginning the traveling companies 
gave the public better and more complete per- 
formances than it had had before, and realizing 
this, the public gradually withdrew its patron- 
age from those theaters that still continued 
with stock companies. Therefore in a few 
years all managers outside of New York were 
compelled to abandon their stock companies and 
depend upon the traveling combinations to fill 
their seasons. As there were not very many 
traveling companies then, the theaters, even in 
large cities, would often be closed for five and 
six weeks during a season for want of attrac- 
tions. At first none of the traveling companies 
carried special scenery, but they used what they 
found in the theaters. The stars, supported 
by their own companies, played their entire 
repertoires, and this was necessary even in 
large cities like Chicago, Cincinnati, and St. 



128 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

Louis. The programme had to be changed 
nightly, or at least three or fonr times a week, 
as there were not enough theater-goers outside 
of New York, Boston, and Philadelphia for one 
play to insure a large business for even a week. 
John E. Owens, under the management of 
Theodore Hamilton, was one of the first stars 
to travel with his own company, and his reper- 
toire consisted of "The Heir at Law," "The 
Widow's Hunt," "The Victims," "Solon 
Shingle, " " John Unit, " and " Caleb Plummer. ' ' 
As he would not play at the Saturday matinees, 
which were the only matinees given at that 
time, Florence Noble and I, supported by the 
company, played either "The Lady of Lyons" 
or a double bill of "Dreams of Delusion" and 
a one-act version of "The Taming of the 
Shrew." 

John E. Owens was a great comedian and a 
most genial gentleman of the old school of 
actors. Being very fond of the society of 
young people, he always invited one or more 
of the young men of the company to take sup- 
per with him after the evening's performance. 
While we were touring the South we played an 
entire week in small cities like Eichmond, 
Charleston, and Savannah, and we changed 
the bill every night. While we were in Charles- 
ton a fakir was exhibiting an "educated hog" 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 129 

under a tent, just off the main street. Theo- 
dore Hamilton, Charles Norris, and I, passing 
that way one afternoon, stopped to listen 
to the fakir, who was crying out to a crowd 
in front of him, mostly negroes, "Step right in 
and see the greatest wonder of the age, — an 
educated hog that can play a game of poker 
with you, and pick out a card with the name on 
it of any president of the United States. ' ' See- 
ing us on the outskirts of the crowd, he waved 
his hand in our direction and said, "Don't miss 
it, gentlemen; it's the chance of a lifetime, and 
only ten cents. ' ' I said to Hamilton, " Ask him 
if he passes the profession." When we neared 
him he repeated, "Only ten cents, gentlemen; 
only ten cents." 

"Do you pass the profession?" inquired 
Hamilton, with mock seriousness. 

"Of course. Do you fellers belong to the 
show up at the Opera House?" 

We answered, "Yes." 

' ' Walk right in, gentlemen. I '11 come in and 
work the hog just as soon as I corral a few 
more of these niggers." 

We went in, and later we saw his show. 
Then Hamilton gave him a pass to see our per- 
formance. 

On Sunday morning we left for Savannah, 
where we were to play the following week. 



130 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

Some of us were sitting together in the smok- 
ing-car, and Mr. Owens was seated in the front 
part of the car with his back to us, smoking and 
reading a paper, when the manager of the 
" Educated Hog" came in and saw us. 

" Hello! Are you fellers going to Sa- 
vannah ?" 

"Yes." 

"So am I. The Educated Hog shows there 
next week. Say, that man John Owens is 
great. I'd like to meet him.' ' 

Hamilton said, pointing to Mr. Owens: 
' ' There he is ; go and introduce yourself. Tell 
him you belong to the profession. He's always 
delighted to meet brother professionals." 

The fakir approached Mr. Owens, who looked 
up from his paper as he spoke to him, and then 
moved nearer to the window. The fakir at once 
sat down beside him, and Mr. Owens held the 
paper between them while the fakir talked 
rapidly. Suddenly Mr. Owens jumped up and 
said : 

"D — n you, sir, you're insulting. Let me 
pass." 

He brushed by the astonished fakir and came 
down the aisle toward us, and when he saw us 
trying to suppress our laughter he said : " Oh ! 
I understand! A good joke," and added de- 
liberately and emphatically, "I'll not invite one 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 131 

of you to have supper with me again for a 
month. ' ' Then he hurried into the next car. 

The fakir came to us and said, ' ' That old fel- 
ler Owens is a queer kind of a man." 

"What did you say to him?" I asked. 

' ' I told him I saw his show and that he was 
great. That seemed to please him. Then I 
told him I belonged to the profession, and that 
I'd be in Savannah to open to-morrow in op- 
position to him with my ' Educated Hog.' 
Then he jumped up and damned me. I can't un- 
derstand why, unless he was afraid of the busi- 
ness I might do with my hog." 

Then the man went to another seat, sat down, 
and lit a cigar, — to think it over. We had had 
our little joke, but it cost us our suppers with 
Mr. Owens for two weeks. At the end of that 
time, however, he relented and asked us to 
join him again. 

In those days the transacting of the theatrical 
business was not methodized. Managers of 
theaters came to New York from different parts 
of the country in the summer, and booked such 
attractions as they could secure direct with the 
managers of the attractions, and many of them 
returned to their homes with only a half, or a 
third, of their seasons filled. Few contracts 
were passed between the parties, and disputes 
were frequent as to what each was to furnish. 



132 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

For example, the traveling manager would de- 
mand that the theater manager should provide, 
at his expense, among other things calcium 
lights as well as supers and ' ' auxiliary ladies, ' ' 
as they were local and still a part of the theater, 
as in the stock company days. 

The manager of the Opera House in Streator, 
Illinois, was a German hutcher, who had his 
shop and living quarters in the Opera House. 
The agent sent in advance of Joseph Murphy, 
an Irish comedian, made a written memoran- 
dum contract with this manager that included 
his furnishing six supers. While the members 
of the company were dressing for the perform- 
ance the butcher-manager knocked at Mr. 
Murphy's dressing-room door. 

' 'Come in," called Mr. Murphy. 

The manager and his wife entered with a 
large well filled tray and a pot of steaming cof- 
fee. 

"Veil, Mr. Murphy, here he is, — all hot." 

"What have you there V 9 asked Mr. Murphy. 

"Vot de contract calls for, — six suppers, 
steaks and chops. My wife she cook 'em." 

Mr. Murphy laughed and told him to keep 
them warm until after the performance. 

"Oh, you want 'em after de show! I 
thought maybe you had to eat 'em before you 
begin your play acting." 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 133 

Nearly all the managers of opera houses and 
halls in the small towns had other business in- 
terests. The theater manager insisted, when 
the receipts were divided according to the terms 
of the contract, that a count of the actual num- 
ber of tickets in the boxes should represent the 
receipts, and in that way he secured for himself 
the money received for tickets sold in advance 
which, for various reasons, were not presented 
at the door on the night of the performance. 
In fact the traveling manager was subjected 
to all sorts of annoyances and impositions, and 
he was besought for passes by office-holders 
and other persons in every town he visited. 

At one time Charles A. Gardiner, with an 
office on Union Square, New York, which was 
then the "Theatrical Rialto," in a small way 
represented a number of traveling managers 
and booked their attractions. Later Joseph 
Brooks and James B. Dickson entered into a 
partnership, and, under the firm name of 
Brooks and Dickson, opened an office on West 
Twenty-third street. They controlled a num- 
ber of theaters in Indiana and Ohio as well as 
in Memphis, and, by affiliation with Thomas 
Davies, in Detroit; and they also looked after 
the booking interests of some theater managers 
in the West. They made several important 
productions, one of their greatest successes 



134 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

being ' ' The Eomany Eye, ' ' which they produced 
at Booth's Theater. Al Hayman, then man- 
ager of theaters in San Francisco, would take 
a company from Omaha to San Francisco, 
playing it out and back in such towns as had 
theaters, and as an inducement to traveling 
companies he would often pay the railroad 
fares out and return for a certain percentage 
of the gross receipts. Then there was H. S. 
Taylor, who also had an office in New York and 
was doing the bookings for some towns and at- 
tractions. 

These were the conditions when the firm of 
Klaw and Erlanger was established. A year 
or two later these gentlemen bought out the 
business of H. S. Taylor, and took C. B. Jef- 
ferson into partnership with them. 

The time had come when it was necessary to 
have an exchange conducted by some firm that 
managers of theaters and traveling companies 
could trust. At first Jefferson, Klaw, and Er- 
langer met with some opposition, as to many 
persons what they proposed to do seemed too 
radical. It was only a short time, however, 
before all managers realized that these gentle- 
men had the right ideas and would thoroughly 
systematize the theatrical business. They 
guaranteed to fill every week of a manager's 
season in the large cities, which compelled 



MASTEBS OF THE SHOW 135 

them to make numerous productions of their 
own, and taken together they were well quali- 
fied to grapple with theatrical affairs, which 
were still in a somewhat chaotic state. 

Charles B. Jefferson, while lacking in busi- 
ness acumen, possessed a knowledge of the 
stage and of play producing, while Marc Klaw 
and A. L. Erlanger had been active and prom- 
inent for many years as agents and managers 
of traveling companies, having toured the 
country extensively. They were both con- 
vinced from experience and observation that 
the crude methods of conducting business that 
then prevailed could not continue. These two 
men were differently constituted, physically 
and mentally; each had certain traits that 
were wanting in the other, and their char- 
acteristics when combined were such as to 
forecast success. The firm, in its several mem- 
bers, represented knowledge of the stage, en- 
ery, shrewdness, method, and judgment. 

After five years C. B. Jefferson, who was 
Joseph Jefferson's oldest and favorite son, 
withdrew from the firm of his own accord, as he 
himself told me. His father wanted him for 
his companionship and also to look after his 
business. Their tastes were similar; they were 
both amateur painters of merit, and as they 
were both fond of outdoor sports, they fished 



136 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

and hunted together a great deal. After C. B. 
Jefferson's retirement the firm name became 
what it is to-day ; and what the firm of Klaw and 
Erlanger has accomplished since then is too 
well known to need any mention here. 

I know that what I am going to say about 
Erlanger will cause a cry of protest from his 
business opponents, from dramatists whose 
plays he has declined, and from actors he has 
refused to engage. I fancy I hear them ask, 
"Why this eulogy of A. L. Erlanger?' ' My 
answer to them is that I write what I know to 
be true. Erlanger and his associates have en- 
couraged American dramatists and have helped 
to make some of them rich and famous. The 
actors have no better friend than Mr. Erlanger, 
as they will some day know, and he fully real- 
izes that he has made his fortune out of their 
services. We know a man well only through 
intimate association; I have been close to A. 
L. Erlanger and I know him. It was once said 
in my presence that he was greedy for money, 
and I contradicted the assertion, for few men 
care less for money than he does. His success 
in life has been hard won, by honesty of pur- 
pose and by enterprise. Wealth naturally fol- 
lowed, but its attainment was always secondary 
with him. At a time when the theatrical busi- 
ness was approaching an epoch, when millions 




A. L. ERLANGER 



Facing page 136 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 137 

were to be catered to, an organizer of capabil- 
ity and nntiring energy was needed to shape 
its destiny; be appeared in A. L. Erlanger. 
Few men have been more maligned and mis- 
understood. His force, authority, and quick 
decision have caused him to be wrongfully ac- 
cused of arrogance and abuse of power. Fre- 
quently the only way to retain power, after it 
has been won by honest effort, is to assert it, 
and men at the head of great enterprises are 
continually confronted with opposition when, 
for self-preservation, they must use their 
power. Mr. Erlanger 's friendship is true and 
lasting, surprisingly so, when one considers 
how false to him have been many of the men 
that he has helped to wealth and position. 
Commercialism is not all in all with A. L. Er- 
langer nor with Charles Frohman. They al- 
ways attend the rehearsals of their productions, 
and their suggestions have often been of value 
to the dramatist and to the actor. I have found 
A. L. Erlanger esthetic and scholarly. In his 
home are numerous works of art that he has 
collected from time to time, and he has decor- 
ated his theaters and equipped his productions 
with artistic taste. I have spent hours with 
him in his library. He knows his books ; he has 
thumbed them well, he has absorbed and re- 
tained their contents, and recalls names and 



138 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

events with a memory that is marvelous. His 
library contains, among other treasures of lit- 
erature, the largest collection of manuscripts, 
books, engravings, and prints appertaining to 
the First Empire in this country, if not the 
largest collection extant. The building up of 
this library has been his ruling passion and 
chief pleasure at times when he was freed from 
the business cares of his office hours. I doubt 
if there is any man better informed than he is 
as to the personages and events of the First 
Empire and the history of France that led up 
to and followed it. This subject has been his 
favorite study. At a time when theatrical in- 
terests that had for many years been harmoni- 
ously and profitably served seemed as if about 
to be disrupted the most prominent producing 
managers of the country met in Mr. Erlanger's 
private office one evening to discuss the exist- 
ing situation. After an exhaustive exchange of 
views by those present Mr. David Belasco arose 
and said: 

"The only man who can successfully handle 
this situation and to whose charge we may 
safely trust our interests is Mr. F^anger." 

Mr. Belasco made a motion embodying what 
he had said, which I seconded. The vote was 
unanimous that all present would be governed 
by what Mr. Erlanger decided to do, and would 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 139 

stand by him to the end. No greater compli- 
ment was ever paid to any man by his associ- 
ates, and that they were right was proved 
later. 

The supposed enormous profits of the theat- 
rical business sometimes look alluring to out- 
side capitalists, but these " angels,' ' as out- 
siders who back theatrical enterprises are 
called, usually find that "all that glitters is not 
gold." The responsible managers of to-day 
have ample capital of their own to produce all 
plays that they consider worthy of production 
and that, to their thinking, promise success. 
No business is more deceptive and speculative 
and none less profitable than the theatrical busi- 
ness. The profits of successful plays are large 
as compared with the capital invested in some 
particular play, but the profits of the theatrical 
business, taken as a whole, are small. Mr. Er- 
langer, who undoubtedly is our keenest ob- 
server of the constantly changing theatrical 
conditions, said, while discussing this subject 
with me, "For the amount of capital invested, 
no other business yields so small a profit; it 
is only a trifle over five per cent." I was sur- 
prised, but I accepted his statement, for I knew 
that he had carefully computed the percentage 
from information he had at hand covering the 



140 MASTEKS OF THE SHOW 

theatrical business of the United States and 
Canada. 

I first met C. B. Jefferson, — Charlie Jeffer- 
son, as he was called by his host of friends, — 
when I was a member of Booth's Theater Com- 
pany in 1869. He was then just entering upon 
his career as an actor, and was one of the 
young men engaged as retainers of the houses 
of Montague and Capulet in "Borneo and 
Juliet.' ' He was seven years younger than I 
was, and my acquaintance with him ripened 
into one of the most cherished friendships of 
my life. His was a most lovable nature, and 
he was sincerely mourned by all who knew him 
when he died, June 23, 1910, at the age of fifty- 
seven. 

Charlie Jefferson told me some stories of 
Grover Cleveland, and as Mr. Cleveland was a 
lover of the theater and a friend of many actors 
two of these stories may fittingly be related 
here. Mr. Cleveland was very fond of Charlie 
Jefferson, and was always eager to have him 
along on his fishing and shooting excursions, 
so while Mr. Cleveland was President he tele- 
graphed Charlie at Louisville, asking if he 
could join him for a few days' duck shooting 
at one of the club preserves on Chesapeake Bay. 
Charlie met him in Washington and they left 







m » **■ 










v.- v " ■ -> 






HP^ \ kfl| ^g->^^^^^ 




.;'■*' Bjjfe''<s: 






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C. B. JEFFERSON 



Facing page 140 



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MASTERS OF THE SHOW 141 

together the next day for their outing. Now, 
Charlie Jefferson was a much better shot than 
Mr. Cleveland, and Mr. Cleveland acknowledged 
it. The first day the guides put the President 
in the best blind, — that is, the one over which 
the greatest number of ducks usually flew. He 
made a bag of seventy-two. Reaching the club 
house first, he had his game laid out on the floor, 
as a surprise for Charlie, who came in later. 

"Well, Charlie,' ' said Mr. Cleveland, 
proudly pointing to the ducks, "there's my 
day's work. What did you do!" 

"I shot fourteen," answered Charlie. 

"What! only fourteen! — and I shot seventy- 
two! There's something wrong in this. 
You're a better shot than I am. Oh! I un- 
derstand, — I'm the President of the United 
States; they put me in the best blind. To- 
morrow you shall shoot out of my blind, and 
I'll shoot out of yours." 

Charlie protested, but Mr. Cleveland insisted, 
saying, "You're my guest; we'll share the sport 
equally. ' ' 

The next day the scores were reversed. 

One summer while Mr. Cleveland was living 
at Gray Gables, on Buzzard's Bay, he and 
Joseph Jefferson decided to go fishing on the 
Fourth of July in order to escape the noise of 
the fire crackers and gun fire on shore. 



142 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

Charlie Jefferson went with them. They fished 
the ebb tide during the morning without suc- 
cess, and at length Mr. Cleveland said : 

"What's the matter with the fish that they 
don't bite to-day?" 

"The reason is plain enough to me," an- 
swered Charlie. "You are the President of the 
United States, and father is its representative 
actor, but the fish have more patriotism than 
either of you, for they are close up in shore 
where they can hear the boom of the cannon." 

Cleveland and Jefferson then laid the butts 
of their rods in the boat with the lines hang- 
ing overboard, and began to eat their lunch. 
About this time the tide changed to flood un- 
derneath. While the others were not watching 
Mm Charlie, who was in the bow of the boat, 
took a pack of fire crackers from his pocket, 
and set them off. Mr. Cleveland and Mr. Jef- 
ferson were startled. 

"What are you doing? Stop that, Charlie," 
said his father. 

"I propose to be a little patriotic to-day, if 
you two don't," replied Charlie. 

Just then the butts of the rods moved. A 
fish had hooked on to each line. Mr. Jefferson 
dropped his sandwich in the boat, Mr. Cleve- 
land stuffed his into his mouth, and they all 
seized their rods, and each reeled in a fish. 




Facing page 143 



JOSEPH JEFFERSON 
As Caleb Plummer 



MASTEBS OF THE SHOW 143 

"Well, Charlie," said Mr. Jefferson, "you 
see the fish are not all up near the shores." 

"No," said Charlie, "I brought some of them 
here with my celebration." 

The fish bit freely for half an hour and then 
suddenly stopped. After a while Mr. Cleve- 
land laughingly said, "Charlie, if you have 
another pack of fire crackers in your pocket 
just set them off." 

So much has been written about Joseph Jef- 
ferson, before and since his death, that but little 
is left for me to say. Nevertheless, I should 
feel that my book was incomplete without some 
mention of him. Through my intimacy with 
his son Charlie I frequently met him, as 
Charlie's late winter home at Hobe Sound, 
Florida, is about a mile from mine, and Joseph 
Jefferson came often each winter to visit his 
son. There were many fishing excursions to 
Jupiter Inlet and Gilbert's Bar, and I was usu- 
ally one of the party. 

I am the happy possessor of the rod with 
which Joseph Jefferson last fished. It was pre- 
sented to me by Charlie as a memento of his 
father, and it hangs in my bedroom, the joints 
tied together just as he last handled it. Often 
as I look at it, it brings him to my mind more 



144 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

vividly even than do the two photographs of 
him hanging in the same room, and I sometimes 
wonder if it misses the grip of the expert 
angler who so often handled it when playing 
and landing a fish. This rod is eloquent to me. 
It tells me a part of the life story of a man who 
loved to be in the open, in close touch with na- 
ture, while he meditated on her beauties and 
her inscrutable secrets, No one shall ever fish 
with this cherished rod while I live. It is the 
most companionable inanimate thing I own. 
When I hold it in my hands my memories of Jo- 
seph Jefferson are more keen, my understand- 
ing of his nature more acute than at any other 
time. I seem then to recall better than at any 
other time the things he did and said, — the 
things that influenced me in my estimate of 
him as a man. He was ever observing. The 
fantastic shape of some passing cloud, the 
flight of sea fowl over our heads, the change of 
the tide, and other phenomena interested him. 
He keenly enjoyed the fishing, but he did more 
than fish, as was evident at times when he 
would call attention to something unusual and 
comment upon it. 

One time, when returning from fishing at 
Gilbert's Bar and conversing in a serious vein 
with Mr. Jefferson, I said something that gave 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 145 

him the impression that I believed in spiritual- 
ism. He interrupted me by saying, "Are yon 
a spiritualist V 9 

"JSTo," I answered. "I have never given the 
subject serious thought/ 9 

"I have," he said. "It's all very mysteri- 
ous, but I have sometimes thought that there 
must be something in it. Of course, I don't 
believe in the charlatans who practice it for 
gain, but the researches being made by philo- 
sophical and scientific scholars deeply interest 
me. There are mysteries they can't yet ex- 
plain, but they expect to, and I believe they 
will. At times when thinking of other matters 
I have suddenly felt the presence of a departed 
relative or friend. Why should they have come 
into my thoughts like a flash, unless their pres- 
ence influenced my mind?" 

These may not have been Mr. Jefferson's ex- 
act words, but they are nearly so, and they 
convey the thoughts he expressed on that oc- 
casion. 

Joseph Jefferson was a master of the rapidly 
waning art of refined conversation, and he pos- 
sessed an almost inexhaustible fund of remi- 
niscences and anecdotes. He was the most 
effective raconteur I ever listened to, and the 
gentleness of his nature was apparent, even to 
those who met him only casually. He had an 



146 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

excuse for the wrong doings of all men and 
women; he attributed human failings to cir- 
cumstances and environment. He said in my 
hearing : 

"I firmly believe that even the brutal mur- 
derer who dies on the scaffold will be better off 
the instant his soul is freed from the contamin- 
ation of the flesh. The lives of people are usu- 
ally influenced by the conditions into which 
they are born. We inherit a great deal that 
is in our natures from our forbears. There is 
atavism even in crime." 

Here is a story Charlie Jefferson told me of 
his father, — a story that I have never seen in 
print. It was well known throughout the 
country that Joseph Jefferson passed a great 
deal of time at his easel and that he was an 
amateur artist, whose work commanded atten- 
tion and received favorable comment. In many 
cities where he appeared struggling artists 
would come to him with a pathetic, or hard 
luck, story, and request him to buy a "pot 
boiler. " These appeals were never made to 
him in vain, and the many pictures he would 
thus buy he would send to his Buzzard Bay 
estate. One summer's day, while he was at 
work on a painting in his studio, — which was on 
the top floor of his house, — there was a knock 
at the door. 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 147 

"Come in," said Mr. Jefferson, without turn- 
ing. 

A German who had charge of his place en- 
tered and approached him. After a pause the 
German said, "Mr. Jefferson?" 

"Oh, it's you. Well, what is it?" 

"Vot you vant done mit dos pictures?" 

1 ' Pictures ? What pictures 1 " he asked as he 
kept right on with his painting. 

"Dos pictures vot you sent home last vinter." 

"Oh yes, — yes, I remember. Where are 
they?" 

"I put 'em in de storeroom in de stables. 
Dere must be over one hundred." 

"You can leave them there for the present. 
I '11 look them over later. ' ' 

"Yes, sir; all right." 

During this conversation Mr. Jefferson did 
not look away from his work. The German 
walked a few steps toward the door, then re- 
turned and stood behind Mr. Jefferson, watch- 
ing him paint. After a pause he again said, 
"Mr. Jefferson." 

Mr. Jefferson turned, slightly vexed at this 
second interruption, and said, "Well, what is 
it now?" 

"You vill excuse me, Mr. Jefferson, but I 
don't see why you vant to buy pictures ven you 
can make 'em yourself." 



148 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

He then turned on his heel and hurried out 
of the studio, leaving Mr. Jefferson convulsed 
with laughter. 

The home life of Joseph Jefferson and the 
affection of his children, relatives, and inti- 
mate friends for him are charmingly told by 
Eugenie Paul Jefferson in her book, " Intimate 
Recollections of Joseph Jefferson.' ' 

The English speaking world knew him as an 
actor who made his genius felt. I never played 
with him, but I saw him in all his roles. His 
genius and art were never more apparent and 
convincing to me than in his scene with his wife 
in "Rip Van Winkle,' ' when he would sit across 
a chair, with his arms hanging over the back of 
it, and his back to the audience. During the 
long tirade of his wife Gretchen he conveyed 
to the audience the effect upon him of her every 
word, by the shifting of his body, the movement 
of his shoulders, the throwing of his clasped 
hands behind his head, and other pantomimic 
gestures. 



CHAPTER VIII 

The fault of the young dramatist is that he 
is seldom right in his construction and se- 
quences. He may have a strong basic idea for 
his story, one or more of his characters may 
be well drawn, his dialogue may be good, but 
he fails to build his play properly. After he 
has had some failures he may write good plays. 
On the other hand, when the play of an experi- 
enced dramatist fails it is usually because of 
the subject, not because the play is not well 
constructed. The successful dramatist is some- 
times tempted to treat some advanced theory 
or some hobby of his own in his play, and with 
his knowledge of his craft he endeavors to work 
out these subjects in dramatic form, so that 
they will hold and interest an audience. But 
he seldom succeeds in making such a play ef- 
fective or profitable. To avoid conventional- 
ity, he will sometimes create a denouement that, 
while it may be natural and true to life, fails 
to satisfy because it lacks the element of com- 
pensation. Woe to the author who fails to give 
an audience compensation at the end of his 
play, regardless of how conventional he may 

149 



150 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

be ! Before the curtain goes up on the last act 
the audience has decided how it wants the play 
to terminate, like many readers of novels, who 
turn to the last page to learn the end before 
they have read the book half through. Show 
the audience plainly the natural ending of the 
story and the fate of the characters involved in 
it. Don't be ambiguous; don't leave it to the 
imagination of your auditors, — no two will con- 
jecture alike. If the author ties up the ends of 
his story logically, the compensation he offers 
will be generally accepted. The death of Ca- 
mille was a logical compensation ; had she lived 
there would have been none. I have often 
heard it said, "Oh! yes, the play's good enough, 
but I don't like the ending; it is too abrupt." 
Many lack the imagination to supply what 
authors merely suggest in the ending of some 
of their plays. I am not posing as a critic of 
plays, either good or bad; I am merely giving 
my impressions, — formed from observation, — 
of what seems to satisfy an audience and what 
does not. I am always a good auditor for the 
dramatist, and he can move me to laughter or 
to tears, if his comedy has point and his pathos 
is true. Like most people, I am pleased or 
displeased without questioning why. If the 
majority of an audience is pleased, a play 
is usually successful, for there are enough 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 151 

satisfied ones to advertise its merits to their 
friends. 

There are no infallible rules for the beginner. 
He must write plays and keep on writing them, 
and if he has the necessary qualities to write 
good ones, he will do so, if he persists. He 
must necessarily first get the basic idea around 
which to construct his story. He must tell his 
story in action as well as in words; his char- 
acters must do something besides speak lines. 
And they must be consistent with the locale of 
his play; he should know them in real life; he 
should live among them and study their char- 
acteristics. In leading up to a situation he 
must be careful to have his different characters 
speak the right lines, — only those lines that are 
in keeping with the characters who speak them. 
In the rush of writing a scene that terminates 
in a climax the young author is usually wrong 
in what he lets his characters say. If the ex- 
perienced dramatist makes this mistake, his 
critical faculty detects it, and he will remedy 
it in the second writing, or at rehearsal. The 
dramatist must keep his play alive with inter- 
est from beginning to end, and he is a clever 
writer indeed who makes his audience eager 
to know what is to happen in the following 
act. 

Some managers object to having a play read 



152 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

to them by an author, but if a dramatist has 
had plays successfully produced he has a right 
to insist on doing so. He knows his play, and 
even if he be a poor reader, he will surely un- 
cover the values in his reading of it that most 
managers would otherwise fail to discover. 
Don't ever read a play to a manager after 
having dined with him, at his or your invita- 
tion. You will not read at your best at such a 
time, and, no matter how good the play may 
be, the manager will probably fall asleep with 
his cigar in his mouth* After having heard a 
play read it is well for a manager himself to 
read it carefully a few times, — in order to con- 
sider its story, construction, character drawing, 
dramatic action, surprises, and climaxes. The 
dialogue is the least important feature of a play 
to be considered; it need only be "in charac- 
ter.' ' After having carefully considered the 
play let the manager ask himself: "What is 
there in this play that the public will pay its 
money to see and hear?" Even after all pre- 
caution has been taken the play may prove a 
failure ; but the manager who follows this rule, 
— and some do, — will make few mistakes. Fa- 
miliarity with the works of great dramatists is 
undoubtedly beneficial to a young writer, as it 
may help to develop his dramatic instincts, but 
if he copies too closely the styles and methods 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 153 

of others he usually produces a play that is un- 
satisfactory. 

The successful dramatist is governed only by 
those rules that he has learned from individual 
experience. No two successful dramatists build 
their plays exactly alike, although each builds 
his plays properly. Each produces his effects 
in a way of his own, for the great dramatic 
moments of a play are the results of inspira- 
tion; they cannot be laboriously thought out. 
This art of playwrighting has much in it that 
is esoteric, many secrets of its own that are in- 
effable. The dramatist seeks in vain to explain 
or understand them, and at times, while writ- 
ing, he succeeds in grasping and using them. 
It is his intuition, developed by experience, that 
enables him to do this rightly. In order to 
write plays successfully one must be able to 
tell in a dramatic and convincing manner what 
happens to a group of characters, to tell it in 
action, with only enough dialogue to attain that 
end, and to develop the characters understand- 
ing^. The traits of a character in a play 
should not be described by others ; the audience 
should be able to recognize a character by what 
the author makes him or her say and do in the 
play. 

Problems do not belong to a play, unless they 
be problems of life as effected by dramatic con- 



154 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

ditions, or of human emotions influenced by 
dramatic events. The introduction of comedy 
in a serious play is desirable, if the author de- 
velops it with characters that are part of the 
story and that are interested in, or affected by, 
the telling of it. Under these conditions the 
contrast is good: the comedy relieves the ten- 
sion of the serious episodes and makes them 
more effective. But the writer who injects into 
a play witty characters that have no part in the 
story, simply because he thinks there should be 
a few laughs, makes a mistake, for by so doing 
he creates an underplot that halts the action of 
the main plot. Underplots and side speeches 
are out of date; a good dramatist never uses 
them. From his central or basic idea the ex- 
perienced dramatist develops a story that is full 
enough for a play, and if he introduces sur- 
prises, unexpected halts in the action, or com- 
edy, he does so in order to develop dramati- 
cally his story and to help its denouement. 

The art of playwrighting cannot be taught. 
The mistakes of the young dramatist are dis- 
cernible to his more experienced brothers, and 
sometimes to the producing manager. If he 
sees the mistakes that are pointed out to him 
and is quick to correct them usually he will suc- 
ceed in writing a good play later ; but if he lacks 
the dramatic instinct to see the difference be- 



MASTEKS OF THE SHOW 155 

tween the good and the bad in construction, or 
is so opinionated that he will not take advice, 
he is not likely to have his plays produced. 
The successful dramatist has the right to in- 
sist that his play shall be produced as it is 
written by him, but the beginner is foolish to 
demand such a thing. 

I once received a letter from a friend of mine 
in Montreal informing me that he had given a 
gentleman a letter of introduction to me, and 
about a week later the gentleman called and 
presented the letter. He was a distinguished- 
looking Englishman of about sixty. During 
our conversation I found him to be a scholarly 
man, — one who had traveled a great deal in 
different parts of the world and who had 
studied men and conditions. He was a gradu- 
ate of Oxford and he had written several plays, 
none of which had been produced. He brought 
with him three that he considered the best, and 
he requested me to read them. During our talk 
he said: "Even if you fail to like my plays, 
you will find that they are properly constructed. 
I know I have at least accomplished that. For 
years I have made a close study of the plays of 
all the great dramatists. I have critically dis- 
sected their plays and I have learned the 
methods of these writers and the rules of 
dramatic construction they observed. ,, I was 



156 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

so favorably impressed by the gentleman's con- 
versation that I promised to read the plays at 
once. There were two modern dramas of Eng- 
lish life and one comedy of the early Victorian 
period. 

That night I read one of the dramas. In it 
were at least four characters whose lines when 
I read them brought the author to my mind. 
They all talked alike, — learnedly, as he had 
done in our interview. One character, an old 
family gardener, was a philosopher who ut- 
tered, not the philosophies of a gardener, but 
of the author himself. The gentleman had 
laboriously adhered to what he conceived to be 
the methods of great dramatic authors and the 
rules that governed them in constructing their 
plays. What knowledge he did glean, if any, 
he was unable to apply to the building up of his 
characters, or to the development of his stories. 
Both his dramas had the same kind of faults. 
They were creditable literary works but not 
dramas. The comedy was fashioned after 
Sheridan's "School for Scandal,' ' with plenty 
of bright, witty dialogue, but there was very 
little contrast in the characters, and no action 
whatever. What he had studied and thought 
he had mastered he failed in, — construction, — 
which experience only can master. 

The play of "Mistress Nell," by George C. 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 157 

Hazleton, Jr., was submitted to me. I read it 
carefully, and decided that the public would not 
care for it, but I was mistaken. I believe other 
managers also refused to produce it. Later, 
the play came into the possession of that most 
capable actress, Henrietta Crossman, and the 
title role suited her personality. Moreover, 
she had had dramatic training. She possessed 
the ability to interpret the play, and she made 
it an artistic and financial success. Plays of a 
different character were then commanding the 
public's patronage, a fact that influenced me, 
and doubtless others, in rejecting "Mistress 
Nell." I now believe that no matter whether 
musical comedy, comic opera, farce, comedy, or 
drama be the rage of the hour, there is at all 
times a profitable opportunity for the unusually 
good of any of them. The manager who 
achieves success with one or two plays that he 
knows some of his brother managers have re- 
jected is prone to believe his judgment almost 
infallible, and he may consequently' make a 
number of failures in succession. 

The dramatist and actor are not unlike in 
their mental and emotional composition, and 
many of the characteristics of each are inherent 
in the other. Each must feel his work. No 
good play, either tragedy or comedy, was ever 
written by thought alone. The dramatist must 



158 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

live with the characters he is writing into his 
play, while the actor must live in the character 
he is portraying. The dramatist naturally de- 
velops his critical faculty, — his mistakes and 
failures do that for him, — and the more plays 
he writes and has produced the quicker he is 
to discern their faults and correct them. But 
the actor seldom knows his own faults, for if 
his attention is called to them he is apt to re- 
sent it. When stars fail to draw a large audi- 
ence they usually blame the play, or the man- 
agement; or they say that the part, no matter 
how great it may be, doesn't suit them, but they 
never express this opinion when they accept 
great parts to play. When their performances 
do not go well they attribute it to lack of appre- 
ciation and responsiveness on the part of the 
audience, never to the fact that sometimes they 
themselves are not at their best. 

Some years ago a member of the American 
Dramatists Club was called upon for a speech 
at one of the club's banquets, and he said that 
the trouble with American dramatists was that 
they were either very lazy or too easily discour- 
aged. He called attention to the fact that Mr. 
Bronson Howard, who presided on the occasion, 
had not given the public a new play in three 
years, and that the only American dramatist 
who seemed to be hard at work just then was 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 159 

Clyde Fitch, who was turning out three or four 
plays a year. The speaker's remarks were not 
applauded when he took his seat ; truth seldom 
is when it is so pointed. But what he said may 
have had good effect, for since then several of 
the budding dramatists that heard him have 
written a good many very good plays, and some 
of these plays have even been successfully pre- 
sented in foreign countries, — even in the coun- 
tries upon which American managers formerly 
relied for plays. 

Admitting the woman dramatist to member- 
ship in the Dramatists Club was wise and 
timely, for she had become an important factor, 
and her efforts demanded recognition. She 
had been, and is still, turning out good plays, — 
plays that the public likes, and patronizes 
largely. Such women as Martha Morton, Eida 
Johnson Young, Marion Fairfax, Lottie Blair 
Parker, Margaret Mayo, Eachel Crothers, 
Frances Hodgson Burnett, and others are in- 
cessant and effective workers, and their brother 
dramatists should feel proud to have them as 
colleagues. 

The growth of the American Dramatists Club 
has been encouraging, and a majority of the 
successful plays presented in this country dur- 
ing the past five years were written by its mem- 



160 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

bers. I can recall a time when not more than 
one or two plays by native authors were pro- 
duced during a season. 

Formerly American managers and stars ob- 
tained their plays abroad, usually from Eng- 
land, and many of the English dramatists 
slipped across the Channel to Paris to pick up 
the French successes as soon as they were pro- 
duced. These French plays, published by Levi 
Freres, were part of the current literature, were 
largely read, and could be bought for a franc, 
or less, apiece. Some English authors sold us 
straight translations, or adaptations of these 
French plays, as their own compositions. They 
did the same with Italian, German, and Spanish 
plays. American managers and actors did not 
go to Europe often then, as they could not cross 
the ocean in five or six days as they do now, 
and they were easy prey for these plagiarists. 
Tom Eobertson, Tom Taylor, and Dion Bouci- 
cault were particularly active in this line of 
work, and their revenues from it were large. 
A, M. Palmer at one time had several failures 
in succession at the Union Square Theater, New 
York. Having a large and expensive stock 
company on his hands, and needing a new play 
badly and quickly, he called upon Dion Bouci- 
cault to supply one. In less than two weeks 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 161 

Mr. Boucicault delivered to him "Led Astray," 
a translation of "La Tentation" cleverly local- 
ized. 

When I first took Kobert Mantell as a star 
he had for two seasons successfully supported 
Fanny Davenport in "Fedora," and had made 
an enviable reputation for himself throughout 
the country. He was even then a good actor, 
young and remarkably handsome. It was said 
that he wore modern clothes on the stage with 
becoming ease and distinction, and thinking he 
should be presented in a modern society play, I 
secured "Tangled Lives," by John Keller, a 
well known journalist. The play, however, was 
not financially successful, and I decided to ob- 
tain for the following season a new romantic 
play, or to revive one of the old ones. Louis 
Nataile read to Mr. Mantell and me "Mon- 
bars," which he claimed was an original play. 
During the reading of the first act the play 
seemed strangely familiar to me ; at the end of 
the second act I recognized its source, but I 
said nothing. As the reading progressed Mr. 
Mantell, becoming enthusiastic, plainly showed 
it, and when Nataile had finished reading the 
play, he said: "Secure this play, Gus. Mon- 
bars is a great part, and I want to play it." 
When I asked the author his terms he staggered 
me by replying, "One thousand dollars in ad- 



162 MASTEKS OF THE SHOW 

vance, and ten per cent of the gross receipts.' ' 
I said I would consider it, and invited him 
across the street to the Gilsey House to have a 
drink, when I remarked that the occasion was 
worthy of a quart bottle, and we all sat down to 
enjoy it. 

As we lifted our glasses to drink I said, 
" Here's to the success of Monbars." Nataile 
spoke up: "Ah, you accept my play? You 
are going to do it ? " 

"Yes, but not your version. I'm going to 
Samuel French and Sons to buy a fifteen cent 
copy of a play I played in a number of times 
when I was an actor at the Walnut Street 
Theater, — a play entitled 'The Woman of the 
Island of St. Tropee,' a translation of d'En- 
ery's 'La Dame de l'Isle de Saint Tropee.' " 

Nataile sold me his version at my terms, and 
Mr. Man-tell played it continuously for two 
seasons, and frequently after that. 

Tom Taylor was once outwitted by W. J. 
Florence and his wife. "The Ticket of Leave 
Man," translated and adapted by Tom Taylor 
from the French, was a big success in London, 
and the Florences happened to be there at the 
time and saw the play. They learned somehow 
that, notwithstanding the fact that Tom Taylor 
advertised the play as an original production, 
he had taken it from the French. They wanted 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 163 

to buy Mr. Taylor's version, but they consid- 
ered his price exorbitant, and the following 
season they produced the play at Wallack's old 
Theater, corner of Broome Street and Broad- 
way, New York. Mr. Taylor, through his 
agents here, got out an injunction to restrain 
them, — but they gave bonds and presented the 
play with great success. When the case came 
up for trial the Florences swore that they had 
seen a number of performances of the play in 
London, that they had memorized every word 
of it, and that they had written down after each 
performance what they had memorized during 
the evening. This was possible for two people 
to do when there was one to refresh the memory 
of the other. Their lawyer claimed that, as 
they had memorized the play, it was part of 
themselves, stored in their minds, their prop- 
erty, and that they had as much right to use it 
for their advantage as they had to use any- 
thing else that they had ever learned. The 
judge agreed with him and gave a verdict in 
their favor. So Tom Taylor did not get any 
American dollars for this play that he had taken 
from the French. 

Fanny Davenport paid Sardou 25,000 francs 
advanced royalty for "Fedora," and Sardou 
agreed not to publish the play. By holding it 
in manuscript Miss Davenport was able to pro- 



164 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

tect it under the " Common Law" of " Proprie- 
tary Rights." After that foreign authors 
stopped printing their plays, and persons who 
bought them to be played in this country, as 
Miss Davenport had done, could prevent any in- 
fringement of their legal rights. Since then, 
through the efforts of the American Dramatists 
Club, laws have been enacted that furnish ample 
protection to foreign authors as well as to our 
own. 

After securing a play for production usually 
the manager's next move is to acquaint the 
public with the fact through the press; the 
gatherers of such items of theatrical news are 
often beginners in journalism, frequently edu- 
cated young men, many of them graduates of 
our colleges, who are just taking up their chosen 
career. The first round of the ladder of 
modern journalism seems to be the reporting 
of police court cases, street accidents, and 
theatrical bits of news and gossip. Some of 
these young men in time reach the distinction 
of becoming editors, but many of them find their 
level as dramatic critics, and these critics are 
more advertised and more talked about than 
any other member of a newspaper's staff. I 
have seen their names on posters, — "So and 
so says this or that," — in letters almost as 
large as the name of the play, and invariably 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 165 

larger than the name of the author who wrote 
it. Indeed, it has become the custom, carried 
to an absurd extent, for managers to quote in 
their advertisements what these critics say, us- 
ing their names, and not always the names of 
the newspapers that employ them. But this 
paying so much a line for what these writers 
say is costly advertising. It is not what they 
think and write that makes or breaks a play, — 
it is what the public thinks and talks. News- 
paper criticism of plays to-day is too often su- 
perficial. The critic has to write hurriedly, so 
as to have his copy ready for publication the 
following morning, and in order to do this he 
sometimes is obliged to leave the theater be- 
fore the last act. His experience may enable 
him to foresee the denouement, but he may miss 
a strong scene, or a dramatic surprise, that 
might influence him in the writing of his crit- 
icism. The critics of the evening papers have 
more time to devote to their articles, and it is 
noticeable throughout the country that their 
criticisms are more exhaustive and profound. 

The dramatic critic is also often handicapped 
for want of sufficient space, and his article is 
sometimes curtailed. The commercialism of 
the press governs space; it is too valuable at 
times to be given up to a lengthy, well-written 
criticism. Editors seem to demand of dramatic 



166 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

critics, not a critical analysis of a play, but 
short, spicy reviews, with a sprinkling of criti- 
cism and a bit of sarcasm. The public is not to 
be instructed but amused. Dramatic criticism 
as literature is a thing of the past; it finds no 
place in modern journalism. A good dramatist 
is the best judge of the merits of a brother dra- 
matists play, as he is quick to see its construc- 
tion, characterizations, and dramatic values. 
The producer 's success is made behind the cur- 
tain, not from displayed newspaper advertise- 
ments with quotations from what friendly 
critics say. When he has a play that is a suc- 
cess a manager can safely reduce the size of his 
advertisements in the newspapers, and this was 
formerly done. In no other country do mana- 
gers of theaters advertise so extensively as in 
this. Foreign managers do not believe it is 
necessary; they know that the audiences they 
please are their best advertisers. This word 
of mouth advertising of the public is like an 
endless chain, and it makes success or failure. 

The following week after the first Saturday 
night in New York, if not sooner, the manager 
knows whether he has a success or not : the box 
office tells him, not the newspapers. There is 
a tendency to overdo theatrical advertising both 
in advance of a production and during its run. 
Thousands of dollars are sometimes wasted in 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 167 

trying to boom a failure. P. T. Barnum once 
said, "To get the people's dollars yon mnst 
humbug them," but the theater-going public of 
to-day cannot be humbugged, and the manager 
must be sincere and truthful in his announce- 
ments. In contrast to P. T. Barnum 's methods, 
I once heard James A. Bailey say: "Let your 
press agent boom the show all he can, but insist 
on his telling only the truth. Never put on the 
bill boards pictorially anything you can't show 
under the canvas. ' ' Mr. Bailey was at one time 
a partner of P. T. Barnum 's, but he was never 
his disciple. He knew modern demands better, 
and he realized that the great amusement-seek- 
ing public had become sophisticated. For ex- 
ample, when Mrs. Scott Siddons first came to 
this country she was heralded months in ad- 
vance as a great actress, who had inherited the 
histrionic genius of her great-grandmother, the 
celebrated Mrs. Siddons, whom Sir Joshua 
Eeynolds painted as the Tragic Muse. When 
Mrs. Scott Siddons opened at the Academy of 
Music, Philadelphia, in "King Bene's Daugh- 
ter," I was in the cast, having been loaned by 
the Booth's Theater management. The house 
was packed. She failed dismally; the audience 
saw that she was only an amateur, and realized 
that they had been humbugged. Some friendly 
critics praised her performance, but the people 



168 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

who had seen it thought and talked differently. 
Influenced by untruthful publications, they ex- 
pected to see a great actress; they found her 
only mediocre, and she played to small audi- 
ences during the balance of her engagement. 
She later met with some success as a reader and 
reciter, throughout this country and in Canada, 
but never as an actress. For she was simply a 
beautiful woman with an historical name, but 
she had never learned the art of acting. 

This over-advertising and inciting of the 
public's expectations is a dangerous experiment 
for a manager to indulge in. He may fill his 
house the first night by arousing public curi- 
osity, but if his offering does not come up to 
expectation his failure will be all the more pro- 
nounced. To publish too much about a play in 
advance of its presentation is not advisable. 
You never hear anything about David Belasco 's 
productions until the curtain goes up on them. 
In this respect Mr. Belasco is a veritable sphinx, 
much to the disappointment and chagrin of 
news gatherers. It is much safer for a mana- 
ger to make a dignified and modest announce- 
ment in advance, and let the public find more 
than it expected. 

On opening nights of my productions I have 
sometimes mingled with the audience as it was 
leaving the theater after the play, and I have 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 169 

heard such remarks as: "How did you like 
it!"— "Very much,"— "So did we." At 
other times I have heard: "It's no good," 
— "We didn't care for it." These "first- 
nighters ' ' do not hesitate to say aloud what they 
think. 

The San Francisco public is proverbial for 
its disregard of newspaper criticism — it de- 
cides for itself. I was in San Francisco at the 
time when Kose Coghlan, — then under my 
management, — appeared in her brother's play, 
" Jocelyn." There was very little advance sale 
except for the opening night, on which occasion 
there was over $1400 in the house. The play 
was new to San Francisco, and the public at 
large was waiting to have its merits decided by 
the "first-nighters." The following morning I 
read the newspaper criticisms, which, on the 
whole, were good. About ten o'clock I walked 
up Market street in the direction of the theater, 
and I heard a gentleman from across the street 
say to another: "Hello, Charley. Did you see 
' Jocelyn' last night!" — "Yes, it's no good." — 
"That's what I think," agreed the other. A 
number of people besides myself heard this 
thoroughfare criticism, and when I reached the 
theater, although the box office had been opened 
for over an hour, only a few seats had been sold. 
About noon time I dropped into the cafes of 



170 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

some of the hotels where it was then the custom 
to serve elaborate hot, free lunches to business 
men, and I heard many remarks that were dis- 
couraging. I later called at the cigar store of 
Mose Gunst, who was a barometer of public 
opinion on things theatrical. He said, "The 
people like Eose Coghlan; she's a favorite here, 
but they don't care for the play." That night 
the house was less than $400, so on Friday 
night I put on " London Assurance" for the bal- 
ance of the week. As soon as this play was an- 
nounced the people began buying tickets; they 
knew the play. Friday night the house was 
again over $1400, and by presenting Miss Cogh- 
lan in the old comedies in which she had won 
her reputation I succeeded in making her three 
weeks' engagement profitable. 

Many theater-goers of to-day are much like 
the Parisian who was accosted by a friend on 
the boulevard, as he was returning from the 
theater in a disappointed mood. "What's the 
matter with you?" inquired the friend. — "C'est 
une soiree manquee." — He had not liked the 
play. Our New Yorkers are the same way. 
They resent the loss of an evening in the theater 
witnessing a play they don't like, and they make 
it their business to warn their friends. 

The great theater-going public quickly scents 
a failure and attends only the successes. It is a 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 171 

surprising fact that a failure in a popular 
theater, even on a thoroughfare like Broadway, 
can play to less than fifty or a hundred dol- 
lars a performance. One would think that more 
money than that would just drift into a theater 
thus located, with its doors open and front bril- 
liantly illuminated, but the people walk by 
theaters with failures and go to those that have 
successes. There are no half measures in New 
York for the producer, — it is either success or 
failure. The successes show a weekly profit, 
usually from the start; the failures, a weekly 
loss. The box office indicates public opinion. 



CHAPTER IX 

After twelve years of acting I entered into a 
partnership with W. F. Burroughs, and began 
my career as a manager. Each of us had 
saved a little money as actors ; we combined our 
savings, — one thousand dollars, — rented "The 
Dannichefs" from A. M. Palmer, and lost it all 
in a few weeks. When we started out we 
thought that we would surely make money, as 
we and our wives played the four important 
parts, which we calculated would make a loss 
impossible. After this failure Burroughs ac- 
cepted an engagement to support Madame Mod- 
jeska, and I continued to be a manager, on a 
salary. A few years later I made a contract 
with Joseph Murphy, the Irish comedian, who 
was my first star, and during all my years of 
management, no matter how many attractions 
I had on the road, one of them was a singing 
Irish comedian. Following four years of 
Joseph Murphy, I took W. J. Scanlan, who was 
with me for seven years, when he broke down 
with paralysis, that fatal disease which has 
ruined so many promising stage careers. 
I once said to Scanlan: "Billy, why don't 

172 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 173 

you go straight home to-night and have a good 
sleep? You know you have two performances 
to-morrow. ' ' 

His answer was: "I can't, Gus, I've been 
amusing the people for the last three hours. I 
want to go out and he amused by others. ' ' 

This craving for excitement and amusement 
after the performance still prevails with many 
of the people of the stage. They seek their 
clubs, the restaurants, and the cafes; in this 
way the amount of sleep that nature requires is 
lost, and some of them pay the penalty. An 
eminent specialist, whom I consulted in Scan- 
Ian 's case, told me that a man might break 
down physically from dissipation and excess, 
but never mentally, if he got eight hours sleep 
out of each twenty-four. 

W. J. Scanlan, like Joe Emmett, who also died 
young, was an actor of great natural ability. 
His comedy was effective, his pathos convinc- 
ing, and he was original, creative, and mag- 
netic. With his winsome smile and charm of 
personality, he won his hearers. Having a 
sweet tenor voice of some power, he sang his 
ballads in a way that reached the hearts of the 
people. And he wrote all the songs he sang on 
the stage, some of which were the most popular 
of his time, notably "Peek-a-Boo," "My 
Molly 0, ' ' and " My Nellie 's Blue Eyes. ' ' The 



174 MASTEBS OF THE SHOW 

music of "My Nellie's Blue Eyes" was used 
for "Two Lovely Black Eyes," which was a 
great song success in England. Even to this 
day Scanlan is remembered and spoken of 
throughout the country, and no actor was ever 
so idolized by the Irish people. Two summers 
before he broke down I took him and his entire 
company abroad for a twelve weeks' tour of 
all the large cities of England, Ireland, and 
Scotland, excepting London. Although he was 
entirely unknown, he was favorably received 
in all the cities where he appeared and his re- 
ceipts increased with each performance. In 
Dublin, Cork, and Belfast he created a furore, 
and had he lived, I certainly should have taken 
him over again. When he left Liverpool with 
his company he journeyed straight through to 
Portland, Ore., for the opening of the following 
fall and winter season, which was probably the 
longest jump ever made by a theatrical com- 
pany. 

After the death of Scanlan I engaged 
Chauncey Olcott to be his successor. As the 
Scanlan contract had still two years and a half 
to run, I continued as the surviving partner, and 
I paid Olcott a salary for two seasons, after 
which I made him an equal partner and gave 
him one-half of the profits. He was under my 
management for nineteen years, until I retired 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 175 

from business in June, 1912, and during most 
of these years lie was the representative Irish 
comedian. The field is a profitable one, and he 
has grown rich. 

For a number of years I have closely watched 
the marvelous growth of vaudeville, and I have 
observed that with each succeeding year it has 
become a stronger factor with the public. Its 
management has been in the hands of shrewd 
and progressive business men, — men who have 
been quick to see and grasp its possibilities. 
Many thousands of persons throughout this 
country have deserted the regular theater in 
order to attend^ the class of entertainment 
offered in the vaudeville houses, and the con- 
sequence is that the theaters have suffered 
from the falling off of their cheap patrons. 
The "gallery boy" has become almost un- 
known; his twenty-five cents no longer flows 
into the treasury of the regular theater. 

It is sometimes said that vaudeville has about 
reached its limit, but I think otherwise. I feel 
that before long in some large theater we shall 
see this style of entertainment on a much more 
extensive scale, with prices ranging from ten 
or fifteen cents to two dollars, according to the 
location of the seats. Instead of performances 
costing at most five or six thousand dollars a 
week, as they do now, some manager will 



176 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

present entertainments that will cost ten to 
twelve thousand dollars a week to stage. The 
programme will probably consist of a comic 
opera or a musical comedy, followed by a short 
drama, farce, or comedy, each interpreted by 
the best available talent, and will conclude with 
star specialty acts and the latest thing in 
moving pictures. Vaudeville's opposition to 
the regular theater will then be even greater 
than it is now. The building of new theaters 
throughout the country, and particularly in 
New York city, is being overdone at the present 
time. Many of these theaters will, of neces- 
sity, be converted into vaudeville, as there are 
not enough successful plays to supply the 
theaters now existing nor enough high-priced 
patrons to support them. 

I have met intimately only one vaudeville 
manager, and because of my admiration for his 
character and achievements, I shall write of 
him here. I refer to Mr. F. F. Proctor. My 
acquaintance with him began many years ago 
when he was associated with me in the pro- 
duction of " Across the Potomac." F. F. 
Proctor's record is clean, and he has the re- 
spect of all who know him or who have dealt 
with him. As some of our great steel magnates 
started their career stripped to their waists at 
the furnace, and as other men who are now at 




F. F. PROCTOR 



Facing page 177 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 177 

the head of great affairs have passed through 
the trials of manual labor, so F. F. Proctor rose 
to his position of to-day from being a juggler 
who juggled barrels and globes. All thinking 
men honor their fellows who have risen to the 
top from humble occupations. These men, 
with meager opportunities for early education, 
acquired knowledge by observation and read- 
ing, and so trained their minds that they were 
able to reach and retain positions of impor- 
tance. 

A man can win no greater compensation than 
to have it said of him that his career was one 
of honorable dealings, — dealings in which his 
word once pledged was kept. This has been 
often said, and will be said to the last, of F. F. 
Proctor. 

When I was a member of Booth's Theater 
company twice a month there were social 
gatherings on Sunday nights at the house of 
Fanny Morant, who played such parts as the 
nurse in "Borneo and Juliet/ ' the queen in 
' ' Hamlet, ' ' and Lady Macbeth. These were de- 
lightful gatherings and they usually broke up 
about midnight, after a cold supper. Edwin 
Mollenhauer, the musical director, would bring 
his violin and frequently a few of the musicians 
of his orchestra; Edwin Booth now and then 
joined this circle of his intimates, when, unre- 



178 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

strained, lie seemed to enjoy thoroughly his re- 
spite from the cares of his theater, and Oakley 
Hall, then Mayor of the City of New York, was 
often one of the party. These gatherings were 
never large; there were seldom present more 
than twenty to thirty persons,- — all actors, oper- 
atic singers of note, and men and women known 
in literature and art. There were flashes of 
wit, friendly exchanges of repartee, discussions 
of art subjects, singing, and instrumental music. 
Introductions were seldom required, as nearly 
everybody present had met the others before. 
On one occasion Edwin Adams, with his exuber- 
ance of spirits, keen wit, reminiscences, and 
mimicry, kept the party laughing continuously ; 
his grotesque imitations of actors and his bur- 
lesquing of Edwin Booth, in "The Fool's Re- 
venge," were extremely funny. I never saw 
Mr. Booth laugh so heartily as he did that even- 
ing. He and Edwin Adams were very fond of 
each other, each addressed the other as "Ed" 
and "Ned," and their close friendship was, per- 
haps, due to the fact that they were entirely op- 
posite in disposition and mentality. 

The opportunity exists to-day for some of our 
prominent actresses to revive those charming 
gatherings of the past, — such gatherings as 
were brought together by Grace Greenwood and 
Fanny Morant. They are still green in my 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 179 

memory, and I learned a great deal from my as- 
sociation with the people that attended them. 

The social advance of the actor from the days 
when he was proscribed as a vagabond to his 
present status is unique. In a little over a cen- 
tury his calling has become a respected and 
honorable one, and its worthy members are re- 
ceived everywhere. Many of them have been 
honored by "crowned heads" and some have 
been knighted. Puritanism is dead ; the masses, 
with the opportunities of education, have 
learned to read, to think, and to know, so that 
a broader-mindedness, a more liberal view, now 
exists. Even the church has come to acknowl- 
edge the beneficial influence of the drama, and 
some denominations have even affiliated with 
the stage. These are truly the "palmy days" 
of the actor : he is no longer condemned for his 
calling, but gauged by his individual worth ; his 
livelihood is no longer scant and precarious. 
Mr. Joseph Jefferson said to me only a short 
time before he died : ' ' Not many years ago the 
theater meant for the stock actor merely a liv- 
ing; for the successful star, a modest fortune, 
and for most managers, bankruptcy. But it is 
different now." He was right, — it is different 
now. Capable actors receive large salaries, the 
provident ones own their homes and have sav- 



180 MASTEES OF THE SHOW 

ings in the bank, and the successful stars and 
managers are all wealthy. The theater to-day 
is a powerful factor in the world's doings, both 
artistically and commercially; responsible 
managers find no more difficulty in discounting 
their paper at the banks than do responsible 
merchants ; the actor finds no bar to social inter- 
course, — to-day he has his clubs where he meets 
men of other callings. His lot was quite differ- 
ent many years ago when he had but a few re- 
sorts where he met only those of his own pro- 
fession. 

I have sometimes questioned whether this 
social betterment has helped the actor in the 
perfecting of his art, or whether it has been 
a detriment to him. Those who are strong 
enough to resist the allurements of this wider 
social sphere, who use their clubs for recreation, 
and not dissipation, will not neglect their art; 
they will advance and succeed. And the weak- 
lings, who would stumble and fall in any walk 
of life, remain mediocre for all time. The 
membership of these clubs nowadays is com- 
posed of men of many callings. Of course the 
actor's intercourse with non-professional mem- 
bers may cause them to take an interest in his 
career, but it is likely too to destroy the illusion 
of his stage work. The members of his club 
know the man so intimately that they must 



MASTERS OF THE SHOW 181 

naturally be less impressed by the actor when 
they see him behind the footlights. 

The establishment of a school, such as David 
Belasco proposes, to teach the art of acting to 
young men and women of education and re- 
finement is greatly needed, and will surely show 
beneficial results. No man is better qualified 
than Mr. Belasco to teach what he himself so 
thoroughly knows. The numerous schools of 
acting that now exist are commercial ; the pupils 
pay for their tuition, — and the teacher has his 
or her living to make. Consequently pupils who 
have not the slightest dramatic ability are en- 
couraged to continue as long as they are able 
to pay. Discipline is lax, and trivial excuses 
are accepted for irregular attendance. Mr. 
Belasco, with his discernment in discovering 
unusual ability, will surely weed from his class 
the impossibles; of the remainder he will de- 
mand regularity of attendance and work. 
His undertaking is a worthy one, and I predict 
for him a success that probably no other man- 
ager could achieve. He has made many good 
actors and actresses, and he will make many 
more. I lately witnessed his play " Peter 
Grimm." It is a classic. Had it been written 
by a Frenchman and produced in Paris, it surely 
would have been honored by the "Academy." 
David Belasco succeeded in presenting in a play 



182 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

the subject of spiritualism in a dramatic and 
absorbing form, — a thing that the great French 
dramatist Victorien Sardou failed to do. 

While I was watching David Warfield's per- 
formance of " Peter Grimm" the possibilities 
of this actor forcefully presented themselves to 
my mind. I have seen him in every part he has 
played since he became a star, and even before 
that, when he was in vaudeville. The best in 
this actor has not yet been brought out. I 
should like to see him play King Lear and Shy- 
lock, under the able direction of Mr. Belasco, 
for his face is suitable, and would aid the effec- 
tive make-up for either part. Moreover, he 
possesses many of the psychical qualities inher- 
ent in both King Lear and Shylock, and, more 
than all, David Warfield is an actor of genius. 
But he needs some great part in which he can 
make his genius known and felt. 

" Actor-managers" in this country have not 
been financially successful in the past forty or 
fifty years. By "actor-managers" I mean 
actors who continued to act, and at the same 
time leased theaters in order to manage them, 
or stars who have tried to manage their own 
tours. Lester Wallack did not manage his own 
theater; its managerial head was Theodore 
Moss. Dion Boucicault leased Booth's Theater 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 183 

for a short term and lost a small fortune. John 
Brougham and many other actors tried manage- 
ment and failed. In all my experience I cannot 
recall a single star who under his or her 
own management was successful. Many who 
claimed to be their own managers had their 
tours directed and their affairs looked after by 
a husband, a brother, or an employed capable 
business manager. Some of these stars were 
successful. But the traits and qualities neces- 
sary for business success are the reverse of 
those required by art : an artist might, in a mo- 
ment of disappointment, destroy his painting 
because it had been unfavorably criticized, or 
refused a conspicuous place on the walls of the 
Salon; but a business man would endeavor to 
sell it. Stars, at the outset of their careers, 
often feel keen disappointment because in some 
city or town the public apparently lacking ap- 
preciation of their efforts fails to patronize 
them. They usually want to cut these cities and 
towns out of their routes, but their managers 
often keep on presenting them in these objec- 
tionable localities, until, in most cases, they es- 
tablish them as favorites. Artists usually lack 
commericialism ; they are not good buyers or 
sellers in the world's marts ; indeed the business 
acumen of most actors is limited to obtaining an 
increase of salary, or, if they are stars, a larger 



184 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

percentage of the profits. In demanding this 
most stars do not consider the financial risk 
taken by the manager who introduced and estab- 
lished them. If once they secure a large pat- 
ronage, the management is secondary in their 
estimation; they think that behind the curtain 
they do all the work that makes for profit. 
Many actors who were once profitable stars 
and who for slightly better terms frequently 
changed their managers are now working for 
salaries. I could name a dozen or more. 

It is true that even to-day in England a num- 
ber of " actor-managers ' ' are successful, but 
even they are " actor-managers ' ' only in name. 
They all have experienced business men associ- 
ated with them, as had Henry Irving in Bram 
Stoker. There are no successful " actor-mana- 
gers, " properly speaking; there cannot be. A 
capable actor will fail as a manager as surely 
as a capable business man will fail as an actor. 
People win success in only those callings for 
which they are psychically constituted. 

I have sometimes in fancy divided the men 
and women I have met, broadly speaking, into 
two classes. In the first class I have grouped 
the actor, the writers of romance, the poet, the 
musician, the painter, the sculptor, and the 
dramatist, — people of impulse, with meager 
foresight, who when they fully grasp a truth of 



MASTEES OF THE SHOW 185 

life's mysteries do so through intuition, not 
by a mental process of delving for it. Their 
power of will is not strong, and they are easily 
influenced. An appeal to them for sympathy 
or aid will be answered without the use of 
judgment, which in them is a minor faculty. 
Opportunities come to them that are often too 
lightly considered, and thus their advantages 
are missed; they feel most keenly the greatest 
joys and the greatest sorrows of life ; and they 
contribute all that is most beautiful and refin- 
ing to the human race, yet they give but little of 
that which is of practical value to it in its solv- 
ing of great problems. These latter results are 
achieved only by the protracted mental labors 
of the other class, to which belong the scientist, 
the financier, the doctor, the lawyer, the astron- 
omer, the inventor, and those engaged success- 
fully in great commercial enterprises, — men in 
whom critical faculty, judgment, and will- 
power predominate, men who are sincere, often 
big of heart, but whose emotions are held in 
check by judgment. If an appeal is made to 
them, its worthiness is considered before they 
respond, while the disappointments of their 
lives are viewed philosophically. My pleasant- 
est hours have been passed with the former 
class ; my occupation has thrown me into close 
contact with its members, and among them I 



186 MASTERS OF THE SHOW 

have found nearly all my comrades and dearest 
friends. Therefore I am happy that my jour- 
ney through life has been along the same paths 
as theirs. Like them, I have sometimes suf- 
fered keenly, and, like them, I have enjoyed life. 



THE END 



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